


Daylight

by EmmyBee13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M, Multi, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 34,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23306062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmyBee13/pseuds/EmmyBee13
Summary: Percy gets roped into helping George reopen Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in a world still recovering from war as George tries to find a new normal. Hermione doesn't know if she should return to Hogwarts for eighth year while Harry is working out if Luna and Ginny are together. Meanwhile, Ron is learning to knit.And Oliver Wood keeps popping up everywhere.An ensemble story set in the summer after the War. Canon except for the epilogue.
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/George Weasley, George Weasley & Percy Weasley, Harry Potter & Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Comments: 45
Kudos: 135





	1. Now That I Saw You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my first fanfiction so it's likely to be a bit rough around the edges. It was intended to be largely Percy-centric, but that got away from me a little.  
> Any constructive criticism is happily received!

“But I want to help!” Ron Weasley said, standing up from his chair in frustration. His brother, George, winced a little at the tone but remained largely unfazed from his place at the Burrow’s kitchen table opposite him. It was only eleven o’clock. Too early for an argument, George felt.

“I know, Ron.” George smiled, through gritted teeth. They’d been going around in circles for half an hour. “And I really do appreciate it. But I think you ought to go back to school and get your NEWTs.”

“ _You_ didn’t get _your_ NEWTs!” Ron threw his hands up in exasperation.

“Because I wanted to run a joke shop.” George said, trying to remain calm. “You don’t know what you want to do and –”

He was cut off by Ron exclaiming: “But I do know what I want to do! I want to help you run the shop, you can’t do it by yourself.”

“That’s not what you want to do, Ron!” George shouted as he flung his hands down on the table and stood up too. “That’s what Fred wanted to do and you’re not Fred! So, don’t try to be.”

The silence was palpable. It didn’t look like George could really believe he’d said the name himself. After the funeral, Fred’s name had been mentioned perhaps twice. He’d been referred to, of course, but no-one wanted to say the name. Names have power after all.

Ron’s eyes were wide. “I-” He began finally, unsure what to say, “I wasn’t trying to suggest that I was. I just want to be there for you. You’re my brother.”

George tugged at his hair then released it with a sigh. “I know. That’s what I’m trying to say. I know. And I appreciate it. But I can hire someone, I can manage. Go and get your NEWTs, and then you can come and work in the shop until you want to move on.”

“But I won’t want to move on-” Ron began, but George held up a hand to stop him.

“You will.” He said with a finality, “I know you, Ron, and no role in my shop will keep you happy forever. I’ll be much happier knowing I was responsible, sent you back to school, didn’t give mum a heart attack by you dropping out, and eventually – when you’re truly happy – you’ll know you only have me to thank.” He finished with a grin.

Ron knew he’d lost the argument. Strange, he’d always felt with only one twin he’d have a fighting chance, but both of their faces were still there in George’s. He knew in his heart that George was right, but he didn’t like his most ridiculous brother being an adult for once.

“Fine.” Ron said, “But you have to find someone to help soon or I won’t go.”

At that moment a third voice piped up. “Who needs help?”

Both George and Ron turned with surprise. There, in striped pyjamas with sticking up hair, stood their brother, Percy. They both grinned, mischievously.

Percy frowned. “I don’t like the way you’re both looking at me.”

“Percy, it’s 11 o’clock and you’re not even up yet!” George said in mock horror, “You need a job, unemployment doesn’t suit you.”

“Yes, I know,” said Percy, uncertainly, “I’ll apply for something soon, we’ve discussed this.”

“How do you feel about helping run a small business?

* * *

That was how, on the next Friday, Percy found himself helping stack shelves at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. He’d been under the impression from George that he would largely be handling the accounting side, and management. He’d be purchasing materials and exporting products while keeping profit margins reasonable. He was required to do all that still, while George experimented with the creation of products, but he had discovered upon arriving that morning that there were currently no other staff members, and George didn’t want to pay for any until they were up and running again. The economy was barely recovering from the war, and most of the profit the shop had made prior had gone on rebuilding post war – and it hadn’t been doing incredibly anyway. Percy suspected this was not due to lack of sales, but to lack of proper pricing strategy.

So, all jobs were for Percy and George to do. And here they were. Stacking shelves in silence. Percy didn’t like it. Even in their teenage years, when his brothers had teased him mercilessly, he’d never felt uncomfortable around them. But today he felt as awkward around George as around a new acquaintance.

“Are you doing alright, Percy?” George asked, as he started to lay out boxes of Peruvian Darkness on a table near him.

“Yes,” Percy replied, “I’m unpacking the fourth box of skivving snackboxes. There’s only one after this. Then I’m moving onto the Nosebleed Nougats. I should be done with my half just after midday if I keep going at this rate.”

George chuckled a little. Percy felt his neck getting hot as he looked over at him.

“Did I say something wrong?”

“Oh, no not at all.” George said, biting back a smile, “You’re doing a great job. But what I meant really was are you doing alright generally, you know, in life?”

“Oh.“ Percy said. That question hadn’t really been touched within the family. He certainly wouldn’t have asked George it. How could George be doing alright? How could Percy? “Not really.”

“Neither am I.” George said, not pausing in laying out boxes.

“I’m not sure I ever will be.” Percy said, cautiously, purposely focusing on the snackboxes he was stacking rather than turn to look at George.

“No. I know I never will be.” George seemed to pause. “Sometimes you say things that actually make sense, Perce.”

“Thank you, I think.” Percy replied. He wasn’t sure if he should say anything else. Saying one thing right was a bit of a record for him and he didn’t want to mess it up. He didn’t want George to get mad at him for assuming he knew how he felt about Fred, but then Percy had lost a brother too, and a brother whose last words had been addressed to him, but the words were only addressed to him because he’d turned his back on his family and failed to trust them and stand by them and that was basically the Weasley motto and he couldn’t even do that right.

“Stop overthinking.” George’s voice broke through Percy’s cloud of monologue.

“Huh?” Percy said.

“You’re doing that thing where you think too hard about what you’re going to say like it’s a test. There’s no test in a conversation. There wouldn’t be much point if I already knew what the correct answer was.”

“Well the correct answer would be saying something like: we may never get to the place we were before because we can never erase what’s happened, but we can get to somewhere else. And that place might not be the same, but that doesn’t make it a bad place, just a different one. We’re not going to get past this, it’s part of us, but that doesn’t mean we have to always be sad, just because we carry a sad thing.” Percy said this all very quickly, and breathlessly, still studiously not looking at George. He bounced on his feet a little.

“A lot must go through your mind.” Said George, “I guess that was a decent answer. Now what would your gut want you to say.”

“It’s fucking shit.” Percy said, glancing over at his brother.

George’s eyebrows shot up, and then he dissolved into giggles. “Honestly Percy,” he said in between laughs, “See, you only needed three words to nail it.” Seeing George laughing got Percy going a bit too, he clearly hadn’t messed up too badly. This caused him to stand on a flattened cardboard box which promptly slipped from beneath him and landed him in a heap on the floor, which only made George laugh harder. George’s attempt to pull his brother up just landed them both on the floor, laughing, and laughing at the fact they were laughing, and laughing at the fact they were just laughing because they were laughing and so on. Both of them stuck on the floor with laughter, just as they had been when George was seven, and had to wage revenge on his twin who had pranked him by convincing him his thumb had been bitten off by a gnome, and he’d gone to Percy for help.

They’d balanced a bucket of pumpkin juice and slime on top of a door so it would fall when Fred walked in. As soon as he had, the two of them, sat on the bed, burst into laughter the moment the bucket fell – mainly from the thrill of it going off – just as they laughed now. But this time, there was no third person, who, after a moment of shock, began to laugh too and quickly jumped on them to spread pumpkin slime over them.

Percy suddenly wondered if George was thinking of that moment. He stopped laughing. After a few more chuckles, George did too.

“I know what you’re thinking about.” George said.

“No, you don’t, you only suspect.” Percy said, as a matter of course.

“I’m clearly a Seer, I nailed it earlier.”

“That wouldn’t be a Seer, it was in the present. It would make you a legilmens which you’re not.”

“I could be.” George countered.

“But you aren’t.”

George didn’t seem to have a response for that. They both stared at the ceiling. George touched Percy’s arm gently. “You’re thinking of the time that you helped me prank Fred.” He said, simply. “He’d pranked me three times, but I couldn’t think of a way to get him back that I was actually capable of – which I was annoyed by because we were twins so I should be able to think of something too – so I went to you to help me.”

“Maybe you are a legilmens.” Percy joked without a laugh.

“I found out later that they hadn’t been Fred’s ideas after all. He got Bill and Charlie to help him – but on the second time he’d pretended to be me so they wouldn’t feel like they were taking sides.”

“Didn’t they have eyes?” Asked Percy.

“Percy, to most people we look absolutely identical.”

“But you have a mole on the right side of your neck.” Percy began to list, “And Fred has a Dragonpox scar just above his right eyebrow. And your features are just a bit wider so when you’re relaxed you look a bit more relaxed whereas Fred looks determined.” Percy could have gone on about just _how_ different Fred and George had always looked when George spoke.

“And I’m missing an ear and Fred’s dead. Some more subtle differences.”

“Bugger, fuck, sorry.” Percy said, “I didn’t mean- I just don’t understand why people thought you were the same. You weren’t.”

“I know.” George said, “And you don’t have to apologise. I think though we should get off the floor and finish unboxing. Then we should get very drunk.”

“Don’t we have that party tonight to celebrate opening this place?” Percy asked, as they began getting up and dusting themselves off.

George looked him dead in the eye. “We should get very, very, drunk then.”

* * *

When they finished unboxing all the products, Percy declared that 2pm was far too early for drinking, but they could go to the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, just as a treat.

Diagon Alley was bustling as it had been ever since the War had ended. Most shops were only just getting up and running again, but it certainly seemed to be more about the social scene than the shopping. There was a sense of community after the event which hadn’t been there before (or, if people were truly honest with themselves, during). George locked up and cast a couple of protection spells. In the window a big sign read “WEASLEYS’ WIZARD WHEEZES: REOPENING MONDAY”.

For a while George had been toying with calling it: Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, (part of why Ron had felt so strongly another Weasley had to be on staff) but with Percy joining, he felt that would do, it seemed.

Streams of people moved back and forth. He and George joined the current in direction of the Leaky Cauldron. Percy kept catching glimpses of people he recognised, or people he thought he did before realising it couldn’t be them as they had fled the country or (worse) had died.

Percy loved the Leaky Cauldron. He liked to sit by the window and watch all the people go by in the muggle world, all unable to see him looking and think he was strange. He was just looking. He’d originally come to Diagon Alley by floo for most of his childhood, and hadn’t entered The Leaky at all. When he was about ten, though, he’d completely worn through some shoes which even his mother couldn’t fix up with magic. His dad had also needed to come to Diagon Alley, so she’d sent them both out. Instead of flooing, though, they’d taken a portkey to the middle of London because his dad wanted to try out the buses (which had, of course, ended in them getting very lost until Percy had taken over and, with the help of three bus drivers, two old ladies, and the massive bus route map, got them to the right street.)

His dad had been so excited being in the muggle world and finding the way in from it. He’d pointed out to Percy how muggles couldn’t see it, but Percy could if he tried hard enough. Percy felt special for that. Undeservedly so, he now felt.

On their return, they’d stopped for lunch here. He’d been told not to tell his mum or his siblings, as they couldn’t afford to all do it, but Tom had given them a discount and his dad had just been paid. They’d shared some chips. His dad had spoken to him, and just to him, and they’d watched the muggles and the funny things they did. One had what looked like earmuffs on attached to a box. His dad had proudly informed him that played music through eckeltricity.

Percy had once used this memory to successfully cast a patronus. He wouldn’t tell his dad that though. It would only cement his status as a disappointment.

George had headed in to a table in the centre and was just pulling out a chair when Percy said:

“Oh, erm, George,”

“Yes?” George replied, confused.

“Do you mind if we sit over by the window?” Percy gestured to an empty table.

“Of course not,” George said, face clearing, “I forgot you liked to sit over there.”

Percy was puzzled about George’s apparent observance that he was unaware of, but they got to the table and began perusing the menu with no further words.

* * *

Halfway through eating, George asked,

“Why do you stare out the window?”

“Huh?” Asked Percy, dragging his eyes away from a person in a bright yellow hoodie who had taken a photo which then came out the bottom of the camera. “Why do I – oh.”

George gave him a small smile, “You can just say it’s your way of saying bog off, George.”

“I thought you were a mind reader.” Percy said, remembering his food and dipping a chip in ketchup.

George fell into an impression of Trelawny, “I cannot control when the Sight takes me!” He dramatized, flailing his arms around.

“Stop being ridiculous, we’re in public.” Percy hissed, only partly in jest. George stopped immediately.

“Sorry. No-one’s paying any attention though.” It was true. Most people finished early on Fridays, so groups of colleagues had entered as they ate and it was almost packed with people, all chatting and drinking. George had even persuaded Percy to have a pint (“the meal will soak it up!”). “The way you look at the muggles is like how dad does.”

“Like I’m going to run off and join them at any given time?”

“Okay maybe you don’t quite look at them how dad does. Just the fascinated part.”

“Maybe I do.” Percy admitted, taking a swig of beer. He really didn’t like beer much. “It’s because they’re people though, not because they’re muggles. People are fascinating.”

“I guess so.” Said George with a shrug, “I don’t think I ever really look.”

“Give it a go then.” Said Percy, returning his gaze to the street outside for a couple of minutes. “See that couple?” He said finally.

George craned his neck to see where Percy was looking. “I can’t see a couple.”

“Those two blokes.” Percy said impatiently.

“Are they a couple?” George said, interestedly, looking at the backs of the two men who were looking in a shop window. “How can you tell?”

“I just can.”

“That’s not an answer.” George said, and then whined “Percyyy,” in a purposely irritating way.

“Well from many things.” Percy said. “The way they’re purposely not touching, and jump when they accidently brush hands, but they’ve brushed hands four times in the past twenty seconds so they clearly want to. When they speak, they turn to face each other more than the average person would. They keep looking around as if someone will see them, I could go on.”

“That’s weird.” George said.

“Yeah I know, it’s stupid.” Percy said, flicking back to his food immediately and trying to ignore the flush he felt coming.

“Oh, Perce I didn’t mean like that.” George said, slightly panicked, “I don’t think you’re weird. I just think it’s weird how much people give away with body language. It’s pretty cool really – and a super useful trick. You could have just worked out all the gossip – we’d never have had to invent extendable ears!”

Percy begrudgingly smiled, ignoring the fact that he knew those ear things had been invented when he’d left the family.

“So, what’s interesting about that couple?”

“Well the guy on the right clearly wants to be open about the relationship – he keeps instigating the touching – whereas the other guy is super nervous, and would rather they weren’t in public at all. He’s actually pushed away the other a couple of times. You can see though…”

Percy trailed off, because the pair had turned away from the shop window, walked the street a little, and while the nervous one had carried on walking after a brief hug, the other had turned directly to the Leaky and began walking towards it.

Both Percy and George recognised him straight away of course; it was Oliver Wood.

Oliver looked much as he ever had, Percy felt, as he strode towards the Leaky Cauldron. Tall, with a mop of brown hair that had grown out a little since no Quidditch was currently running. Percy had barely seen him in years, though he supposed it was of his own doing.

Oliver briefly locked eyes with Percy through the window and then did a double take. His face broke into at grin at seeing Percy and George and he waved. They waved back. A couple of moments later Oliver had entered the Leaky and gently pushed through the crowd to come and talk to them.

“Hello, what do we have here?” He said with a grin, though Percy couldn’t help but notice he was mainly focused on George.

“Oliver!” George exclaimed, “How are you, mate?”

“I’m alright, yeah,” Oliver responded, shrugging off the light jacket he was wearing, “How are things with you two?”

“Yeah, okay,” George said, “Just come from setting up the shop.”

Oliver nodded, “Ah yes, there’s the party tonight, yeah?”

“Yeah, bound to be awful but mum made us.” George rolled his eyes, “Are you coming?”

“Well I wasn’t too sure but now you’ve sold it so well…” Oliver joked, “Yeah I probably will, if you want me. So, have you been helping with all this, Percy?”

Percy jolted slightly at being addressed. Surprised, but pleased, he smiled at Oliver. “Yes, I’ve been roped in, rather. I’m now an employee of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.”

Oliver didn’t attempt to conceal his surprise, as he was always an open book, his eyebrows shot up. “That’s not really what I expected.” He admitted, “Expected you to be up there getting a prestigious ministry job. Not that working at your shop isn’t highly prestigious, George.”

George gave a little salute.

“Yes, well, I wasn’t really prepared for a return to the ministry.” Percy said, lightly. “And George needed another pair of hands at the shop.”

“I suppose he did.” Oliver replied, with a grimace. Percy glanced over at George, who looked a little uncomfortable. Oliver followed his gaze. “Ah, shit.” Oliver said, never one for keeping his thoughts in his mind.

George shook his head a little, and put on a grin, “No worries, mate, honestly. I’m not made of glass.” He stood, “I’m going to the bar. Are you sticking around a bit? Want a drink?”

Oliver smiled and his shoulders went down from where they’d tensed, “Cheers, yeah, a pint please.”

“Percy?” George asked.

Percy frowned, “We really shouldn’t drink too much so early in the afternoon.”

George and Oliver exchanged a look.

“C’mon Percy, you know you want to be completely bladdered by tonight.” George said.

Percy gave in more easily than he’d have wished. “Fine,” he said, “But get me a wine or something, I can’t drink anymore of this piss.”

George laughed, and headed off. Oliver promptly took his chair and collapsed into it.

“I think you’ve gained a bit of a foul mouth since school.” Oliver said, picking a chip off George’s plate. “In fact I distinctly remember you telling me off in sixth year for saying shit too much because I was being ‘a bad influence on the younger years’ and ‘it sounds vulgar anyway’.” He put Percy’s remarks in air quotes.

A small smile crept onto Percy’s face. “Perhaps you could have better applied that excellent memory to your studies.”

Oliver chuckled, which Percy liked – he never usually made people laugh so often. That is, laugh in a nice way – with him rather than at him as his mother always said. “Glad to know you’re largely the same, Perce. Just missing the stick up your arse a bit.”

“Yes, well, you can imagine why.” Percy’s voice lacked emotion. “When you completely betray your family and only end up on the right side of the war in time for your brother to die, you realise you’re not as good as you might have thought.”

Oliver rubbed at the side of his face as if thinking of what to say but didn’t jump in with reassurances.

“Sorry.” Said Percy. “I make things uncomfortable.”

“Things are only uncomfortable if we think them so,” Oliver said, dipping a chip in some ketchup.

Percy frowned, “And I’m not looking for any pity. Whenever I mention what happened my family starts going on and on about how they forgive me.”

Oliver swallowed his chip. “I know. You’re always very frank, Percy.”

“No, I’m always very Percy.”

It was a bit of a lame joke, but it made them both smile. Percy glanced over to the bar hoping George wouldn’t be too long, for fear they’d run out of conversation. Somehow, they’d already accidentally flown far away from small talk. He couldn’t see his brother’s ginger head anywhere in the crowd though.

“I know you don’t need lectures about how you’re forgiven.” Oliver continued, “Because you know what you think, and you know what you did, and you know that you’re part of your family still.”

“Do you forgive me?”

“I don’t see what you’d need forgiveness from me for.” Oliver said, “None of it was to do with me.”

Percy shrugged. “It was a war; it was to do with all of us.”

“I suppose.” Oliver conceded, and for a brief moment the silence Percy had feared kicked in. But then Oliver started talking about the Quidditch season, and when it would resume. When George came to the table, they talked of Hogwarts and schooldays, and all about the war was unsaid.


	2. It's Brighter Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I'm back and uploading at 2am again. Thank you to people who've commented/left kudos, it's very kind of you. I'm trying to stay a chapter ahead so chapter 3 is pretty much written - being in lockdown does speed the process! I'm going to try to update at least once a week, hopefully. I'm imagining it will be around 7-10 chapters long. Also, I know my description of places isn't great but I'm trying to work on it - thanks for reading :)

“So, who is going to this party tonight?” Harry Potter addressed the room from where he lay flopped upside down on the end of Ron’s bed. Ron sat at the head, cross-legged, knitting in the muggle style as Hermione had taught him earlier that day, and swearing every time he dropped a stitch.

“Honestly, Harry,” Hermione reprimanded, as she glared at him in the reflection of the full-length mirror that stood to the right of the bed (not that he could see her do so.) She was in the middle of applying ridiculous amounts of sleek-easy to her hair (Ron had objected to this process, saying he liked her crazy hair, but she reminded him that she liked it to look different every once in a while and her appearance didn’t concern him.) “I’ve told you at least twice, you just don’t listen.”

Harry charmed the ceiling pink. “I don’t think you did, Hermione. You probably just confused me with Ron again. You know he doesn’t listen.”

“I don’t what?” Ron said, looking up from the mangled piece of red wool between his hands. “Oi, why is my ceiling pink!”

“Oh sorry, Ron,” Harry said, contritely, waving his wand again and turning it green with flecks of silver.

The knitting was thrust aside onto the little bedside table as Ron took out his own wand. “Harry! Even you don’t want that!” Ron exclaimed, casting a spell at the ceiling just as Harry did.

There were suddenly moving chess pieces on the ceiling, but with a backdrop of red sky and yellow lions on the prowl. Even Hermione looked up in interest to watch as a brave knight got mauled by a lion and chewed up into chunks. A couple of other lions began closing in on a pawn.

“That’s quite incredible,” Hermione said, and the boys both looked at her in surprise. “Not the bit where you two are being stupid,” She clarified, “But the fact you both cast separate charms but the results of each are interacting.”

At that moment there was a knock on the door and a shout, “If you’re having sex, stop now because I’m coming in!”

“Come in!” Hermione called, continuing to watch the ceiling, though the movement of the figures appeared to have slowed down. Ginny entered, levitating two makeup bags, a small mirror, a variety of hair tools, and two bottles of wine.

Harry stretched over the end of the bed to look at her upside down. She had a towel wrapped around her head as she claimed hair drying spells were ‘a danger’, and ‘people set their hair on fire with those’. None of this had ever stopped her using them on other people, including Harry himself. “Surely you knew I was in here, so it was safe from sex, Gin?” He asked.

She smirked. “How do I know? All three of you might have been going at it.”

“Ergh, Ginny, that’s disgusting!” Ron said, grimacing. “Not me and Harry.”

Ginny sat down on the floor near Hermione and began laying out her products. “Two men being together is very normal Ron.” She stated, taking out cream and patting it on her face which was red from the heat of the shower.

“I’ve no problem with that obviously.” Ron said, “But Harry is like my brother! It would be so weird.”

Hermione fixed him a stern look, “And you’re in a monogamous relationship with me, so that would also make it a little weird.”

“Oh, yes, obviously Hermione.” Ron said, taking up the knitting again with only a little edge of fear, “You are my queen after all.”

Even though Hermione had been joking, she looked rather pleased with that response even if it was followed by a murmured, “Shit was I knitting or purling”. Hermione leaned in close to work it out for him.

Ginny knocked her head back against the wardrobe in frustration. “Harry, stop them, they’re being gross.”

Harry finally deigned to sit up, only because all the blood was going to his head and he thought he might pass out. “I wish I knew how to stop them.” He said, “I’ve been putting up with this all day.”

“I don’t envy that,” Ginny said, applying a thin layer of foundation which immediately shade-matched to her skin. “Luna and I had a lovely day roaming the hills on the lookout for heliopaths or something.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow, “Ah so you weren’t too focused on what you were looking for? Got a little distracted?”

Ginny shot her a glare. “Yes, I was distracted by the beautiful landscape, and the fact whatever we were looking for either didn’t exist or would unlikely to find by happenstance on the hills near our house. Besides, Luna was leading the way, I didn't need to know much. I was the brawn not the brains.”

“Okay, okay.” Hermione grinned, exchanging a glance with Ron. Harry looked rather bewildered.

“Anyway,” Ginny said, “What happened to the ceiling?”

They all looked up to see a massacre. Broken parts of chess pieces were strewn across, along with a few lion carcasses. The lions appeared to have turned on each other for the most part, though a couple seemed to have their mind on other activities, and one lion seemed to have received a crown – presumably from defeating the chess king. 

“Oh dear.” Harry said.

“Fascinating.” Said Hermione.

“Are those lions shagging?” Ron asked.

“Don’t be so crude, Ronald.” Hermione said, though more as an impression of herself than in sincerity. Hermione picked her wand from the dresser and waved it at the ceiling. Nothing happened.

“What was that supposed to do?” Harry asked.

“Just a diagnostic spell,” Hermione replied, grabbing a piece of parchment and spelling the results onto it. She folded up the parchment and put it in her bag. “I’ll take a look at it later, but for now…” She waved her wand again and the ceiling became sky blue with a few clouds moving across it.

“Nice,” Ginny said, with a smile. “You’ll have to teach me that.”

“I’m glad someone appreciates me.” The other girl replied, “It probably won’t last – or if it does it’ll start raining, but that will teach these two to mess about.”

“I thought you were impressed by our spells!” Ron cried.

“By the happy accident they created.” She corrected him.

“Could someone just tell me who is going to this bloody party?” Harry asked, with a slight whine.

Hermione laughed and took pity, beginning to list families: Weasleys, Lovegoods, Longbottoms, Finnegans – a list which Harry quickly tuned out of, realising he didn’t actually care who was going; he only asked to make conversation. Instead, he conjured four wine glasses and cracked open a bottle of wine.

* * *

The four of them flooed directly to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, though Harry still had never quite got past his fear of the floo, he still opted not to apparate, in case he landed on top of a table and knocked everything off or something. The fireplace was in the back room, a quiet little place with a desk set up and a table in the middle covered with bits of paper with various concoctions scribbled on them. Ron led them through a windowless door that separated it from the main of the shop. 

It came out at the opposite side to the door, but that was obscured by the pillar in the middle of the shop which concealed the stairs. Ron chose to go round the left, past skiving snackboxes and Peruvian darkness powder, to arrive at the foyer section where several of his brothers were stood, including the rarest seen: Percy.

Harry hadn't really seen much of Percy since the war. Not by any kind of purpose, just Percy was often holed up in his room when Harry visited the Burrow and when he wasn't in his room, he never looked very present. Where Percy had always been stoic and quite quiet before, he was timid and silent now. He'd used to make perfunctory conversation, but now he barely asked for the peas to be passed - at least when Harry was around.

Harry was surprised then, to see Percy was chatting quite merrily with George, Bill, and Fleur.

The group chatting burst into hellos upon noticing the others arrive. 

"Mum and the others are upstairs setting up,” George said, in between hugs. “But you’re welcome to stick down here a while or have a look around the shop.”

“It’s looking great!” Hermione said earnestly from beside Harry, “I hear you’ve been working all day.”

George nodded, “Yes, Percy and I were doing lots of hard work, weren’t we, Perce?” George said, nudging Percy who turned from greeting Ron and Ginny to face them, “Had to reward ourselves with a trip to the Leaky.” Then he added in a stage whisper, “Percy’s a little drunk.” 

“George, stop it, I’m really not that drunk.” Percy reprimanded, though Harry did notice his cheeks were a little pink. “I’m self-aware enough to know that I’m a little tipsy. You’re a bit obsessive over my drinking.”

“Well, perfect Percy getting drunk! It’s truly an opportunity!” George laughed. 

Percy glared at him. “You’re only jealous you can’t drink anymore until after your speech.”

“You’re right - because I don’t want to get killed by mum.” George replied, then heard his name being said by Ron, “Oi, Ron, what are you saying about me?”

“So, how are you two?” Percy asked as George went over to argue with Ron about something. “Planning on returning to Hogwarts in September?”

Harry couldn’t remember Percy ever speaking to him with genuine interest before, it had always seemed like an act. Now, Percy’s face was more open, his hair a bit longer and looser, and he wore muggle clothes with a black robe thrown over. He didn’t look drawn and tired as he had since the war, but he wasn’t pompous Percy either. 

Harry tentatively said, “I know I am.” Percy’s green eyes met his own as he spoke, “I don’t want people thinking I was just handed everything. I know I haven’t learnt everything I need either.”

“That sounds sensible.” Percy said, taking a sip of his wine, “I know I was a bore in seventh year, but I really did learn an awful lot. And you, Hermione?”

“I’m still thinking about it.” Hermione admitted, “Half of me longs to go back and learn it all, but the other half knows I could pass them in the retakes in October and not have to go back to a battleground.”

“Understandable.” Percy said, swilling his glass a little, “I sometimes think I’d give anything to go back, but really I just want to go back in time.”

Hermione nodded like this was what she expected. Harry was a little annoyed - he wanted Hermione to come back with them! Perhaps it showed on his face, or perhaps Percy just continued anyway. 

“Though, I suppose, it is a bit like going back in time.” Percy mused, “And reclaiming a bit of lost time, even if it’s not quite the same, can hardly be a bad thing. Don’t rush your life; I know I wish I hadn’t.”

With that, Percy offered them both drinks, and, after racking up a long list of drinks to procure, wandered off to find them.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “He’s changed.” She said, simply. 

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “I noticed.”

“Well, if you noticed it must have been drastic, indeed.” Hermione teased. Harry pulled a face of mock offence. “Shall we have a look around?”

While looking around, Ron and Harry got distracted quickly by attempting muggle magic tricks - as George allowed them to open a box thinking they’d be bored in five minutes. Hermione quickly got fed up with them asking each other “Was this your card?”, as they always got it wrong, except once when Harry correctly got it and Ron promptly accused him of using some kind of locator spell (which he had). Harry then went into dramatics about Ron thinking he was lying when he said he hadn’t (he was lying). 

Instead, Hermione went to look at the ever-growing range of serious protection items which were kept in a separate section. Angelina Johnson joined them, and she and Angelina had a fascinating conversation about the pros and cons of shields that absorbed curses versus ones which would deflect them. Absorption shields tended to be more likely to crumble from the strain, whereas deflection ran the risk of a curse rebounding and hitting the wrong person. 

* * *

During all this, the Lovegoods had arrived, and Ginny greeted Luna with a hug.

“Hey, I’m so glad you came!” Ginny said, with a little bounce. 

Luna looked calm as ever in a tie-dye dress that brushed the floor and a necklace that appeared to be made of potatoes. “I’m happy to be here.” She replied. “I hope there will be fireworks?” She addressed this last part to George.

“Afraid not.” George said, with a shrug, “Don’t think mum would be best pleased.” 

“That’s a shame.” Luna said, “I remember your brother saying things should always go off with a bang. Though I’m sure I could reproduce a sound like that.” Though Luna didn’t specify which brother, it was pretty clear which one she meant. Ginny inadvertently pulled a face. 

George didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, though Ginny was relieved to see he didn’t look angry or sad, just a little surprised. As Luna began raising her wand though, as if to practice making a large banging noise, he swiftly spoke, “I’m sure he would say something like that - but I don’t think we need to hear a bang just now.” George noticed Percy enter the room levitating a tray of drinks, “See, we wouldn’t want Percy dropping those.” He gestured.

Luna seemed to accept this, and she and Ginny moved out of the entrance to the shop to the right-hand side, ending up by a table filled with various love potions - much as she’d tried to persuade her brother to stop stocking them.

“Should I not have said that?” Luna asked, evidently having noticed Ginny’s unconcealed grimace at Luna’s mention of Fred. 

“I don’t think he minded,” Ginny said, twisting the ring on her finger. “We all dance around mentioning Fred just because we’re worried and it normally puts him in a mood.” 

Luna nodded, “I’ll remember not to then.” She said.

“Oh, I think it’s okay.” Ginny said, unable to bear the thought of Luna being anything but herself, “The odd thing about you is that no-one can ever seem to be annoyed by you speaking your thoughts. I suppose because they’re so genuinely well-meant.”

The room became a lot louder all of a sudden, with some kind of chaos happening over at the other side and the music from upstairs getting louder. “That’s a very kind thing of you to say Ginny,” Luna said, taking Ginny’s hands into her own, stopping her fiddling. “Though I’m not sure everyone thinks as well of me as you.”

Ginny was extra glad of her foundation as she felt her face heat up with the classic Weasley flush - the curse of being a ginger. Luna’s hands were cold from the outdoors and felt smooth unlike Ginny’s well-worn ones from too much Quidditch. “I’m sure most people don’t think so well of me either.” Ginny said, unsure if she was aiming to break the tension or heighten it, “I can be mean, selfish, overly obsessed by Quidditch and-”

“And you can be a loyal friend, helpful to those in need, and endlessly fierce.” Luna broke in. “Plus, I may be no expert, but you look rather good on a broom.”

Ginny’s breath caught. She wasn’t sure if Luna was just unaware of how that sounded or being purposely flirtatious. She wished Hermione was here to analyse this conversation, but at the same time would have died if anyone else was there. Just as she thought that, the sound of running feet drew near and Ginny turned quickly, dropping hands with Luna to see Harry running quickly at them from towards the back, evidently having run the whole way around the shop, with what looked like bits of paper zooming at his head.

“Ginny, help I’m under attack!” The boy yelled as if he were thirteen rather than eighteen. He ran past them and ducked under the table of love potions. The bits of paper, which on closer look, Ginny realised were a deck of cards, shot right at Ginny and Luna now.

“Argh!” Ginny shouted, and quickly crouched, pulling Luna down with her under the table as the cards flew over where their heads had just been, and then circled aimlessly. 

There was a moment of silence before they all began laughing. 

“Honestly Harry, you’ve been face to face to face with Voldemort and you’re scared of a pack of cards?” Ginny asked, looking at him. His hair, which had been all smoothed out for the evening, now stuck up at the back again and his glasses were all askew.

“Not the cards,” Harry said seriously, adjusting his glasses, “I’m scared of Ron.”

Luna let out a little giggle from between Harry and Ginny.

“Oh, and hi Luna.” Harry said, “I didn’t realise you’d arrived.”

“Until you came running at me and almost killed me with some cards.” Luna said, airily, “But that’s alright, Harry, I’ll forgive you. You’re almost as nice as Ginny.”

“A compliment indeed,” Harry said with a grin. 

“HARRY POTTER. I DON’T CARE THAT YOU’RE THE BOY WHO LIVED. I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Ron’s voice boomed from nearby. 

“Ah.” Harry said, “That’s not great.”

“What on earth did you do?” Ginny asked, simultaneously remembering Harry had caught her and Luna in slightly strange circumstances.

“Nothing much.” Harry said, “We were doing muggle magic tricks, and I was failing spectacularly, but Ron was getting the knack of it so I kept lying and saying it wasn’t my card. Hardly criminal.”

“It was criminal, Harry, you nearly drove me out of my mind!” The tablecloth flicked up and Ron Weasley appeared under the table, seeming rather jovial for all he had said, “I just couldn’t work out what I was doing wrong! The good news is I can be a muggle wizard now.”

“A magician.” Harry corrected.

“Magician,” Ron repeated. “I could get behind that.” He nodded at Luna who was across from him. “Alright, Luna?”

“I’m well, Ron, and you?” Luna said, and then continued, “Well actually, the table seems to be protecting you from the wrackspurts that were obviously affecting your mood when you were shouting, so I expect you're well now."

“Ah yes of course!” Ron said, still having a soft spot for Luna’s creatures, “Maybe we should just stay under this table all night. It’s quite cozy and I’d only have to talk to you lot.”

“What about Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Well, obviously she’s invited.” Ron said, “Though she’s too busy discussing experimental magic. We’ll be her guinea pigs soon, mark my words.”

Luna’s eyes lit up, “Oh is Hermione broadening her mind? She’ll be an unstoppable force.”

Ron groaned. “Oh, no.”

“What?” Ginny asked.

“Hermione’s going to do such incredible things and be world-renowned, and I’m not going to do anything, and then she’ll meet a man who gets off on talking about the difference between types of shield charms and who loves discussing regulation 3a.11.5 rather than a man who is expert in muggle magic tricks.” Ron moaned, looking genuinely a little distressed. 

Ginny gave him a withering look. “Okay, I can’t deal with my brother’s relationship problems, so all I can say is don’t be so stupid Ron, and pull yourself together. I’m out.” Ginny crawled from under the table and stood up. She waited for a moment. 

Luna did not emerge.

Ginny flipped up the tablecloth and ducked her head under. “That means you too, Luna.”

“Oh, sorry Ron.” Luna apologised, profusely, “I’ll be sure to talk about this with you later.”

“Cheers, Luna,” Ron said and the two girls left. 

* * *

Harry was not very happy to be left with an insecure Ron. It didn’t take long to talk Ron out of this sudden rut though, as Ron really was quite an accomplished wizard - easily equal to Harry, even if their strengths lay in different areas. Besides, Hermione had proved over and over again that she respected Ron.

“So,” Harry began when Ron seemed decided Hermione probably wasn’t about to break up with him after telling him she loved him the day before. “What’s with Luna and Ginny?”

Ron didn’t quite meet Harry’s eyes, “What do you mean?” He wasn’t very good at hiding things.

“C’mon Ron,” Harry chided, “I may be oblivious but I do just about have functioning eyes. And ears. They looked on the verge of kissing when I almost ran into them, and Hermione said something weird to Ginny today about being distracted by Luna. Plus they’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“Well, they are best friends.” Ron pointed out, “We spend a lot of time together. It’s just the two of us under this table after all. Anything could be happening.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Harry lightly shoved him.

“Stop trying to change the subject,” Harry complained, “Look, I don’t mind if there’s something going on - Ginny and I were genuinely mutual in our break-up. I just don’t want things kept from me.”

Ron looked sympathetic. “Okay,” he said, “Though really nothing is being kept from you. Hermione just started having these theories about Ginny and Luna. Ginny’s certainly open to dating women, and Luna… well, she doesn’t really look at things the way most people do. They’ve spent a lot of time together lately - but particularly just them, I mean you saw how quickly Ginny swept Luna away again.”

“I see,” Harry said, trying to work out what he felt. Imagining Ginny and Luna together. When he’d seen them it had seemed natural, only his second-guessing was making him think he was bothered about Ginny seeing someone else. It was odd because he used to be so bothered - seeing her with Dean in sixth year, but now he didn’t find himself minding at all. “Well, I’m happy for them.”

Ron looked relieved, and Harry almost wished he’d played up some angst as he’d had to deal with Ron’s (not that he minded doing that - but he minded that Ron always felt so low about himself. He just wanted to shake him and say that the things Ron thought about himself weren’t true. He’d tried this method though and it hadn’t worked.)

“The problem is,” Ron began, gesturing outward with his hands, laying the problem out, “they don’t seem to be together. The fact they were holding hands seems a positive step, but neither of them seems to be making a move. My money’s on Luna to instigate.”

“Nah, it’ll be Ginny.” Harry said, “Luna probably sees them as together already, whereas Ginny will get so irritated by not knowing she’ll make a move.”

Ron raised his eyebrows. “Is that a bet?” 

“Merlin, this seems immoral.” 

They shook on it.

Hermione wasn’t particularly impressed to hear they’d betted on Luna and Ginny’s inevitable relationship, but she said it would be a mutual kiss that neither would know who instigated. She also introduced betting the amount of time, which she put at two weeks - the day before the return to Hogwarts. Harry said it would be that very evening, while Ron put it at a month. Galleons were put in a pot in Hermione’s bag before they could feel too bad about it. 

Their crime complete, they joined the party upstairs and waited for George’s speech by eating lots of food and spying on Ginny and Luna in the most obnoxious ways, until Ginny threatened to bat bogey hex Ron after he was levitated by Hermione over their heads and then almost dropped on top of them because slightly-tipsy Hermione got distracted. Luckily, Ginny thought they were just mucking about or she really would have hexed them. 


	3. Clearing the Air, I Breathed in the Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't smoke. It will destroy your lungs unless you are a wizard, which seems unlikely. Also, I'm pretty sure it's been longer than I said it would, but the chapter after this one is finally done. Thank you for reading!

The room upstairs in Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes was quite large, easily fitting the forty or so people there, with tables running down the left-hand side covered with food. The beams that supported the high ceiling were charmed with patterns of lights giving the room an ethereal glow. There were several small balconies off the right-hand side which looked down on the street of Diagon, from when the building had been a house with rooms before everyone was priced out of simply living on the main street to make way for businesses (though George had his own flat on the floor above, as most shop owners did). At the end, there was a raised platform, which is where George Weasley stood to make his speech. 

“Good evening, everyone,” George said, after he had got the room’s attention. “Thank you for coming and supporting the reopening of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.” The room seemed very big and very full. Dozens of pairs of eyes looking up at him. 

No-one could ever have called George Weasley shy - he was quite the opposite, outgoing and friendly - but stood there without Fred, he felt naked. There was no-one else to start the sentences or to blame if something went wrong. He was all George. What if people didn’t like George? This was not the time for an existential crisis.

“Yes, so thank you all for coming.” He said, then realised he’d already said that. He glanced down at the bit of paper in his hand, and then at the room again. There was a pause as he looked around. Every face he could see was a friend or a mutual one. He knew almost all of these people. Should he just go off-piste and think off the top of his head?

No, he quickly decided, that would be a recipe for disaster. He’d thought about these words and he believed in these words. Besides, he thought, who listens to speeches anyway. 

“Now people might question my decision to open up the shop only a few months after the War and the death of my brother, Fred. I expect most of you have, in of course a well-meaning way.”

He glanced at his mother, who was standing near the front, holding his father’s arm. She smiled at him, encouragingly. 

“I know I have also questioned this. But the question for me was not about whether it would be disrespectful to Fred - I knew that he would want the shop open in his honour - but whether I was up to the challenge. Whether I was able to go it alone, where I never have before.”

One could have heard a fairy bat its wings in the silence of the room. They were all listening to him. Even Ron didn’t look glazed over as he often did. George glanced down at his sheet again. 

“What I have come to realise though, is that I am not going it alone, and that is because I am lucky enough to have all of you, who have come to support me and my family tonight. I want to thank my parents, who haven’t tried to tell me my decisions were wrong, my siblings for doing all they can to support me, particularly Percy as he has graciously decided to work in the shop with me, and my friends, for being there through the worst thing that ever could have happened to us - to me.”

He glanced to the corner where Angelina, Katie, and Lee stood. Lee beamed and Angelina smiled, eyes flitting away a moment. 

“All I have to say is thank you.” George finished, watching Xenophilius Lovegood and his Quick Quotes Quill scribbling his words down for the Quibbler. “And have a wonderful night!”

Clapping began immediately, and George scurried off stage, suddenly a little embarrassed. Someone wolf-whistled, which he suspected was Lee. He was immediately accosted by Weasleys, his mum squeezing him half to death without saying anything, and his father following with a quick hug and a “I’m proud of you, son.” 

Ron thumped him on the back as Percy appeared in front of him. “Nice speech,” Percy said, “And thanks for, you know, mentioning me.” 

George smiled, Percy was even awkward when drunk. 

“You deserve it,” George said, before getting dragged off by Lee, who was pulling a rescue so George didn’t spend the whole night talking to his family. If George was honest, he wouldn’t really have minded.

* * *

Percy Weasley was sobering up. That wasn’t something he particularly wanted, but he didn’t want to be back in there being plied with more and more alcohol. Chances were, he would overshoot, get very, very drunk, embarrass himself, and then wake up with a massive hangover. And he was out of hangover potion. 

A side effect of sobering up was that the room suddenly felt very crowded, and loud. Plus the ease of chatting to people had gone a little. There were only very certain people who he felt relaxed talking to. He knew it was mad because really he should be just as capable of it, but when he was sober he couldn’t help replaying all the things he said, even as they came out of his mouth. He could never shake the feeling that people were judging him either. Because they were, that was a fact, as you couldn’t have a conversation without thinking things about the other person. He just feared their thoughts wouldn’t be positive. He wasn’t really part of these people. In reality, most people would attest that Percy was perfectly good to talk with when sober, and being drunk only made him talk more (though sometimes with less sense).

He now stood out, alone on a balcony, smoking a muggle cigarette that he’d rolled, with his glass of wine largely abandoned behind him (as he’d drunk more than a bottle). Muggle cigarettes relaxed him. He didn’t think it was necessarily from what was actually in them, but just the act of it. It was how he’d spend a break from the ministry in the past two years when, for just a moment, he could almost forget what was happening. The positive of using muggle cigarettes was they were easily curable - unlike wizarding alternatives, which was a path Percy hoped he’d never slip down. Still, he knew his mother wouldn’t be impressed. He’d charmed a sign to read: SMOKING AREA in front of this balcony, so hopefully, she wouldn’t have cause to enter it. 

The door to the balcony was closed, muting the sounds of the party so it was just background noise. There was the occasional whoop and cheer from the rest of Diagon Alley, too, though few people walked the street below him as it was too far north. The sky was clear of clouds; he could see Orion quite clearly which made him remember being a teenager and having an argument with his parents which had caused him to storm out of the house.

It was about seven years ago. He’d left the house in a huff late at night, without even his wand, and had walked up the high hill near the Burrow. He hadn’t aimed to go far, but with every step upwards, he’d had a better view of the sky. It was captivating. Following Orion, he walked up, uncaring that his shoes were covered in mud, and his skin was being ripped raw by the wind as he lacked a jumper. 

When he’d reached what seemed to be the top, he realised he’d lost the path. It had seemed to just fade out. By the moonlight, he had looked around desperately to find the way down, before deciding to return the way he had come. The way he had come, was not there though. He came face to face with some cows, which loomed in the dark, but they couldn’t provide answers. Completely alone. 

Using the sky, Percy attempted to get down, putting Orion behind him and the moon to his left. Rubble slipped under his feet, and it was much steeper than the way he had come and he knew there were old mine shafts which he could fall through. He found the river and followed that and then a moment later dropped down knee feet in mud which he pulled himself out of and ran from faster than he ever would have believed. He wasn’t just panicking for himself, but for his parents; they must be so worried about where he was and he couldn’t even send them a message. Eventually, he saw a familiar tree, and then the light of the Burrow. He was back, muddy and dishevelled, but home. 

When he entered, he wasn’t accosted by his mum though. The house was eerily silent. What if something had happened to them while he was gone? He pulled off his shoes and lightly ran up the stairs. Standing outside his parents' room, he heard them snoring. All was well, they just hadn’t waited up to check on him.

After all the fear of being lost and falling through mine shafts, or getting stuck in a bog, he was still alone and knowing that they hadn’t worried enough to manage to stay awake. 

* * *

Percy was snapped back to the present by the door opening behind him. He turned quickly to face Oliver Wood. 

“Oh, hi,” Oliver said, “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone else was out here. I don’t want to disturb your peace.”

“It’s no bother,” Percy said, returning his gaze to the sky and taking a drag of his cigarette. 

“Didn’t expect you to smoke,” Oliver said, tone friendly. 

Percy glanced at him, “I don’t really.” He replied, “Only when I’m stressed.”

“Why are you stressed?” Oliver asked. Percy didn’t respond. “Sorry, that’s personal.”

Percy noticed how Oliver, leaning against the balcony as if he might fall off, actually did look sincere. “No real reason.” Percy said, “Just all a bit much sometimes.”

“Yeah, I understand that.” Oliver said, “Though the real way to alleviate stress is lots of flying.”

Percy rolled his eyes. “You’ll never convince me of that. Also, don’t think I don’t remember you agonising every minute over different Quidditch strategies. You even spoke about it in your sleep.”

Oliver bit back a grin, “That’s true, but that’s Quidditch. Just flying with no demands is exhilarating.”

“You can’t have flying be both your source of stress and release.” Percy countered, finishing one cigarette and immediately starting to roll another. 

“Oh but I can.” Oliver replied, “You know me well enough to know that. Besides, you used to read all those long history books as a ‘break’ from studying.”

“Well, now I can proudly say I’m the only person who actually learnt any history at Hogwarts.” Percy joked, readjusting so only his right side was leaning on the balcony to properly face the other man. Oliver had changed a lot since school. Technically, everything was about the same: his short, brown hair only a tad longer, his face still clean-shaven, and he’d always been lucky with clear skin through school. His face looked somehow worn though, and, when his face was expressionless, his eyebrows weighed down on his face rather than seeming constantly eager.

“Can I have one?” Oliver asked, gesturing to the packet. “I’ve never tried a muggle cigarette.”

Percy nodded. “Hold this.” He passed his own to Oliver and ignored the warm touch as their hands brushed, and began rolling one for him. “Never thought it would be me corrupting you.” He said, “My siblings would almost be proud.” 

“There’s no ‘almost’ about it,” Oliver said, receiving the cigarette and lighting the end of the cigarette with his wand. “You’re a bad influence, Percy Weasley.” 

Percy blushed a little at that. Oliver then sucked on the cigarette and immediately started coughing. With a laugh, Percy conjured him a glass of water which Oliver sipped. 

“Cheers.” He said, when recovered, and Percy taught him how to inhale without choking. “Guess I didn’t nail the looking cool thing then.”

“It’s not about looking cool.” Percy said, primly, “It’s a terrible habit anyway.”

Oliver sniffed, “You seem to manage the looking cool though.” 

“I do?” Said Percy, confused, subconsciously running a hand through his curly hair. 

“Yeah.” Oliver said, “You’ve got that nerdy chic going on. With the jumper and everything.”

Percy pulled at his dark green jumper over his shirt and tie. “Jumpers are nerdy?”

“Nerdy chic.” Oliver corrected, “You’ve got that Professor look - a bit like Professor Lupin.”

“I’m still not sure if you’re paying me a compliment,” Percy said because he was worried Oliver was paying him compliments, and that would be flirting, so how was he supposed to respond to that? But if Oliver was light-hearted teasing, friend to friend, then there was no need to worry. Percy could carry on as he was. 

“C’mon Lupin was hot,” Oliver said, quite seriously, and then laughed at Percy’s screwed up face. “Guess you were too straight to see it.”

“It’s not that,” Percy assured, unsure why honesty was jumping out today, “But I’d never think of a teacher like that!”

“If you think back now though…” Oliver said, suggestively. 

Percy thought of Professor Lupin. When he’d taught them, Percy was under the belief he was completely straight. Since he’d come to the conclusion that perhaps was not the case, but he hadn’t thought about relationships in so long it hadn’t become an issue. Lupin had been quite young compared to most of the Professors, yet was one of the best he’d ever had. And while he dressed in shabby robes, his face certainly hadn’t been unattractive. He remembered being praised by the man and his eyes crinkling with his smile. 

“Jesus.” Percy said, “Okay maybe you have a point. Ergh. Gross.”

“It’s alright, mate, almost everyone had a bit of a thing for Lupin,” Oliver reassured. 

“Kind of weird now he’s dead though,” Percy said, as he flicked the ashes off the end of his cigarette on the balcony. 

Oliver frowned a little. “I forget things like that, sometimes.” He said, and Percy felt guilty for bringing the mood down. “Sometimes I’ll mention Snape like I expect him to still be inventing poisons or whatever he did in his spare time. Or we were talking about Robert Murray the other day, you remember him?”

Percy nodded, vaguely remembering a Ravenclaw boy who had been in their year at Hogwarts. 

“I knew him reasonably well. But it was only several minutes into the conversation that I remembered he’d been killed by Death Eaters for being muggle-born.”

Percy hadn’t even known Robert Murray had died. 

“People talk about the fallen fifty.” Oliver said. “And I respect that, of course. But so many other people died or had to run and leave their lives behind and they’re not spoken about. Guess there’s no pride in running away or dying in your home.” 

Percy studied Oliver as he spoke. He was looking out at the street, talking to it more than Percy. The faint glow of the streetlight reflected in his watery eyes. “I know.” Percy said, “And people act like nothing’s changed, that’s what worries me too. So many people were ready to stand by and let it happen. Or, worse, happy to fulfil it.” 

Oliver was silent as if he wanted Percy to keep talking, but finally, he locked eyes with him and said, “You know that wasn’t you, don’t you Percy?” 

“Wasn’t it?” Percy said, lightly. 

“THere’s a difference between finally seeing something is happening and being too late to get out of a bad situation, and just ignoring it because you know it won’t affect you. And when it came down to the wire, you were there, and you fought.” Oliver said, forcefully. “I know I should have done more, but I didn’t really know what to do. I helped a bit with evacuating muggle-borns but the underground system wasn’t very efficient.”

“God, I know, trying to get around almost all forms of magical transport was a nightmare,” Percy said, feeling selfish that he wanted Oliver - no someone - to know that he hadn’t just sat and done nothing. He could pretend in his head he’d said it without thinking.

Oliver didn’t look too surprised. “You know, I thought you might have been involved.” He said. “So many people received warnings in advance of the ministry trying to bring them to trial. And then sometimes the officials showed up at the wrong place, or people who should have shown up as muggle-borns had magical relatives traced to them in such a convincing way the ministry believed it, but those people told me the record was tampered with.”

Percy smiled, shyly, “That might have been me.” He said, “It wasn’t much, but it was what I was in a position to do. Why would you guess it was me though?” 

“Because you’re a good person,” Oliver said. “And that didn’t change because you’d fallen out with your family. Besides, the organisational skills and forgery skills needed to create those records had to be of an exceptional skilled wizard well-versed in magical law. I know you, Percy, and you never could sit tight and smile when something like that was going on. Even if it would put you at risk.”

“I guess that makes us..” Percy pulled a face, “similar to each other.”

Oliver laughed. “Who’d have thought after all our arguing at school!” 

“Well if you hadn’t been so obsessed with Quidditch-”

“If you hadn’t been so obsessed with studying.” Oliver countered. 

“Guess we’re a pair of obsessives then,” Percy said, suddenly aware of how close they were standing. 

“I guess we are,” Oliver said, eyes darting to Percy’s lips. Percy wondered if he imagined that. At that moment, as fate would obviously have it, George burst open the balcony. 

George’s mouth dropped open a little, though he recovered gracefully. “Ah, sorry, I just- we’ll go elsewhere.” Percy then noticed he had Angelina tagging along behind him. George turned in a flash. 

“Wait, George, it’s not-” Percy began, but George had already closed the door. Percy sighed. “Now he’s going to have the wrong idea.” He wished he hadn’t said that after, because Oliver stepped back a little. 

“Yeah, I mean that would be weird, right? Me and you?” Oliver said, and any hope Percy had was extinguished. 

“You and I.” Percy corrected. “Yeah, weird.” He agreed. “Do you want to return to the party?”

“Not particularly,” Oliver said, “You’re welcome to of course, but I don’t know the people here that well. Honestly, I probably wouldn’t have come if I hadn’t chatted to you and George earlier. I like just talking to you. .”

Percy laughed, though he could have cried with happiness. “People don’t say that very often.” It was true. Percy Weasley was boring, everyone knew that. 

“It’s true.” Oliver said, “You’re easy to talk to. And that’s not just because I’ve had too much beer, though I could have been spouting a load of rubbish for the past hour, in which case forgive me.”

“Well, I guess if I’ve known you this long and I still like you, you’d have to say something truly terrible to change that.” 

Oliver laughed properly, a big bellowing noise. “The same to you Percy. I had to see that cauldron thickness phase.”

“You weren’t even there!” Percy said outraged. 

Oliver shook his head. “You forget, I met you in Diagon Alley and you told me all about your new job.”

“Was I that bad?” Percy asked. 

“Nah,” Oliver said, with a beam, “A little priggish maybe, but your enthusiasm was endearing.”

“I’m not sure your enthusiasm for Quidditch in seventh year was endearing, didn’t you say it didn’t matter if Harry died as long as he caught the snitch?” 

“Maybe I was a little too obsessed,” Oliver admitted. “But it paid off. Besides, he can’t die, he’s the boy-who-lived.”

It was a lame joke, but Percy laughed. Then he cast a warming spell because it was getting late, and the chill in the air was getting stronger. Oliver pulled out a hip flask. 

“Want some?” He asked. Percy took a swig and instantly regretted it. He swallowed in pain. 

“Ergh, is that straight Firewhiskey?” 

“Maybe,” Oliver said with a wink, which didn’t make Percy want to kiss him quiet at all. 

After a bit of sipping at that, Percy asked. “So that man you were with today…” 

Oliver winced, either from the conversation or the Firewhiskey. “Ah, you saw that.” 

“Is he a boyfriend?” Percy probed, hoping the answer was no. 

“That would be a strong word,” Oliver said. “We’ve been out a few times but I wouldn’t say it’s really working. He’s a muggle and they’re more worried about that kind of thing so he barely even speaks to me in public. Plus, it’s hard keeping half of my life secret, but I don’t think I’ll ever like him enough to tell him.”

Percy nodded, taking a drink. “Well, you don’t have to date with the aim of being together forever. But if being with someone is more effort than it is enjoyable then that’s not really worth carrying on.”

“I guess you’re right.” Oliver said, “I know I’ve got to stop going out with him really. Just, it’s nice to have someone who doesn’t see me as ‘Oliver Wood: Quidditch star’, or ‘Oliver Wood: War Hero’.”

“That person will come.” Percy said, “Besides, all the people here don’t see you as all that, just like they don’t see Harry Potter as a saviour. I mean once you’ve seen the guy try to beat Ron in balancing biscuits on their noses, he doesn’t have that sense of wonder to him anymore.”

“I’m not sure what the lesson is there.” Oliver mused, “But I would like to take them on in that competition.”

“I guess the lesson is to attempt dating everyone and see who still likes you once the shine of who you are has worn off?”

Oliver nudged him with his shoulder. “Very practical.” He said. “Glad you’ve solved my love life.”

They stood out there a long time, just talking. Percy felt quite at peace on the little balcony, knowing he could be in the party, but was choosing to be away from it.


	4. I'll Tell You The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've put off posting for ages because I hate rereading my writing but I decided to just post it anyway - if it doesn't make sense I apologise! Thanks for reading anyway

George had quickly scarpered upon seeing his brother and Oliver Wood stood about half an inch from each other, not just because the last thing he wanted ever was to see his siblings in romantic situations (especially after walking in on Ron and Hermione snogging in a very enthusiastic way) but also because he didn’t want to end up interrupting anything that might potentially be happening. If anyone needed some happiness, it was his brother. He and Angelina had been going to find Alicia and Katie anyway after Lee had left early because he had plans for the next day that he had to be up for. They had said they were going for some air. 

George didn’t feel like he should be alone with Angelina, partly because one of them would probably start crying and set the other off. George had been harbouring a bit of a thing for her for the past two years - after all, who wouldn’t. She was funny, kind, clever, and beautiful. The conversation had always flowed, and, despite her dating Fred for almost a year, she was one of the few people that had George felt perhaps liked him as much as she liked Fred, maybe even more. Angelina and Fred had been explosive, but they’d wound each other to breaking point several times and had called it better as friends. It would have been weird to ask her out after that and now… Now it was impossible. Fred would always stand between them, but that didn’t really matter to George anymore. What mattered most was that Fred wasn’t there. He didn’t need to complicate things further. 

He pulled Angelina by the hand through as they checked the other balconies but with no luck. On the end one, they found Harry standing alone. George wondered where Ron and Hermione had gone off to, and felt for Harry, being the eternal third wheel. 

“Alright, Harry?” George greeted, as the dark-haired man turned to greet them. George still remembered seeing him on that very first day, a scrawny little thing drowning in muggle clothes. Now he was still unassuming, but handsome, with dress robes that fit and square glasses that suited his face. 

“Alright George, Angelina.” Harry nodded to them both. 

They made pleasant conversation, discussing politics of all things, and when the next election for minister might be, as Kingsley was still standing in before Angelina excused herself to go to the bathroom. 

“I don’t want to intrude,” Harry said, “But are you and Angelina … you know?” 

“Oh-er no, what would make you think that?” George asked, hastily.

Harry shrugged, “I don’t know. Just you look at her a lot. And she looks at you too.”

“She does?” George asked, a little too eagerly. “I mean.. I don’t care.”

Harry looked puzzled at his glum face. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

George thought it over. He didn’t want to discuss this with anyone, but he felt like he had to. And who else would he? Harry was reasonably distanced, not a brother or a best friend, yet someone George trusted implicitly. “Angelina and I - that couldn’t happen.”

“Why?” Harry asked. 

George threw him a look. “Because she used to date Fred. And it always seemed like they might become a couple again - Fred even told me that himself. The thing is I want her around so much and I love her so much, but it’s nothing compared to how much I miss Fred, I’d feel so guilty. And I just don’t know if I’ll ever really be whole again. 

Harry looked like a rabbit in the headlights - without even the hope of being a deer.

“Sorry.” George said, “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do, and I don’t know how to live without every moment being painful.”

“I won’t pretend I can understand.” Harry said after a few moments of silence, placing a hand lightly on George’s shoulder, “And maybe you will always feel like part of you is missing, but that doesn’t mean your happiness is sacrificed forever.” Harry was quiet again until: “Now isn’t forever. Angelina will wait.”

“But I need her, and what if my chance passes.”

“Chances never truly pass.” Harry said, “You’ll find happiness, someday George, and Fred will be happy for you. Just because other people, like Ron, seem to have true love already, doesn’t mean you have to have love at twenty, or however old you are.”

George nodded. “I know.” He said, “I just want to feel happier, but if I felt happier, I’d feel like I was betraying Fred.” 

“Have you considered,” Harry began awkwardly, “Have you considered seeing a therapist?”

“That’s what mum says I should do.” George said, grabbing his hair in frustration, “but how could anyone make this better?” 

Harry sighed, “I’m sorry, I don’t know.” 

“I just- I just want him back.” George’s voice cracked, barely even taking in Harry anymore, “Why can’t he come back?”

Harry looked uncertain. 

“Why,” George said softly, then louder, “Why? Why did it have to be him? Why couldn’t it be me? Fred, please.”

* * *

At that moment, Angelina reappeared and, seeing George worked up, quickly took him by the shoulders and led him to a chair looking outwards. Harry followed, looking anxious that he’d made a mess of things. 

Angelina took him aside and spoke to him quietly. “Look this isn’t your fault at all so don’t look worried.” She reassured, “Thanks for talking with him, this happens a lot.” She glanced over at George’s glazed eyes. “Especially as he’s so drunk. You go and find your friends. It was good to see you, Harry, I’m sorry it couldn’t be for longer.” With that, she hugged him, and he was on his way. 

Harry stood a moment, watching Angelina talk softly to George, hearing George say “I just want to talk to him,” and again wondered how he’d come out relatively unscathed. Of course, some of the people he’d loved had died: Sirius, Remus, and Tonks, though none of them were part of his every day. Fred too, of course. But with all these people there had always been long periods of time when he didn’t see them. It wasn’t like losing Ron or Hermione. He couldn’t even imagine losing them, let alone losing a twin. Even Ron or Hermione… it would be the worst thing Harry could possibly think of but he and they were not interdependent. He didn’t want to think about the fact that he could get on without them. So he thought, anyway. Realistically, if he didn’t have them he’d wallow forever. But Harry sometimes worried he didn’t love them enough, somehow.

The people in the hall had thinned out some by the time Harry returned, some people having left for the night, yet it seemed louder than ever as those who remained were dancing and screaming to some Celestina Warbeck. He scanned the room for Ron and Hermione, but they seemed to have completely vanished. He was filled with an urgent need for the loo and went to the one downstairs, for some quiet. When he came out, he noticed Percy, just returning from the direction of the main entrance. 

“Oh, Harry,” Percy said, looking a little caught in the act. “I was just seeing Oliver off.”

“Wood?” Harry asked. Percy nodded in response. “Ah, I didn’t really get a chance to speak to him, was he alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Percy said. “Think all seems well with him.”

Harry smiled, “That’s good. You two must have been dorm mates at Hogwarts, right?”

“Oh, yes, we were.”

“Imagine that was a lot of drama.” Harry joked. 

Percy looked confused. “Drama? Why would there be drama?”

“You’re both quite-” Harry paused to pick his words carefully, “intense personalities.”

To his relief, Percy chuckled. “Yes, well there were arguments, but we didn’t talk to each other that much. We felt it best to both just get on, though woe betide our other dorm mates.”

Harry was about to respond when Percy’s expression seemed to go quite serious. 

“Actually, Harry, I need to speak to you about something rather more important,” Percy said, with a slight urgency. 

“Oh, sure,” Harry said, a little thrown, “Now?”

“Yeah,” Percy said, “It’s something I should have said a long time ago.” He sighed. “I’m sure Ron showed you that letter I sent when you were in school.”

Harry did remember that letter quite vividly, but though at the time it had pained him more than he’d expected, he hadn’t thought about it in ages. “Yeah, he did.” Harry replied, “But that was ages ago.”

Percy wrung his hands. “I know.” He said. “But I wanted to apologise. And apologies for not believing you in the first place. I knew you, Harry, and I should have known that you wouldn’t make things up like that. I had really begun to think of you as an honorary brother, even then, so to even suggest that Ron should abandon you… Even at the time, I don’t know if I truly believed it, but I was blinded by my own ambition and my need to make something of myself. I’m sorry.”

Harry was on the verge of laughter, but the sincerity of Percy stopped him. Had this been some kind of purposely formal apology, Harry wouldn’t have appreciated it. This had clearly weighed on the other man. “Percy,” Harry began, “Thank you. But you really don’t need to apologise. It’s all in the past.”

Percy broke into a smile. “Oh good. I can’t tell you how that’s preyed upon me. Among so many other things, of course, but I’ve managed to make some amends with my family.”

“You don’t need to go around making amends, Percy.” Harry said, “Don’t be living in guilt.” Harry thought Hermione would have been proud of that advice, and he truly did believe it. He didn’t understand why a war hero was walking around like a guilty man. Perhaps he would mention it to Ron, though Harry had never quite mastered knowing when things were supposed to be kept between two people. 

“Thank you, Harry.” Percy said, a little stiffly, “Friends?” He offered a hand to shake. 

Harry, still slightly merry and being a lover of physical contact since he’d discovered it aged eleven, ignored the hand and outstretched his arms, wide. “Hug?” He’d learnt from Hermione that one should always ask, especially if they had proffered a hand instead. 

Percy looked a little surprised, but hugged him anyway, then awkwardly made an exit. 

Harry stood for a few moments, thinking about the past few years, trying to really picture them this time, but every time he flashed his back it was all too much. It remained a blur of panic, and panic was all it instilled in him now. Someone in his mind, piercing blue eyes, flashing of red and green, the roar of a motorbike, damp and camping, endless endless endless...

No. He was here. This was Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes: a safe place. His friends were here. He didn’t have to be looking over his shoulder anymore. He just needed to find Ron and Hermione. He’d unconsciously started pacing, and heard the low hum of paces coming from the backroom as he trod near. 

He knocked, then after affirmation that he could enter, pushed the door open. 

“Harry!” Hermione said, with a dopey smile, from where she was sitting on the floor, leaning against a wall and Ron. Ron had his bit of wool out and it definitely had some knitted fabric that had formed a kind of square though it was a little… holey.

Ron looked up and grinned. “Hey,” He said, “Sorry, we just thought we’d get out of there for a bit and couldn’t see you. Hermione’s a little…” He trailed off the sentence, glancing at Hermione, who didn’t seem to have taken in a word.

Harry could fill in the gaps. Hermione was clearly tipsy, but Ron had brought her down here before she became fully drunk. Fully drunk Hermione was messy. She often cried, got very worked up, and couldn’t take her attention off the scar that spelt ‘mudblood’ that ran down her arm. Of course, most people were messy when properly drunk, which is why it was generally avoided. Harry and Ron had reasonably learnt their tolerances and had only had one or two incidents. Hermione was clever; she knew her tolerance. Once she started drinking, though, she never wanted to stop. Harry could well understand that. But it didn’t help her forget, it made her cry incoherently. Slowly, they were staging an intervention, but the one time Ron had apparently suggested she stopped drinking, Ron and Hermione had a massive argument. 

Here there were then, in the small back room, with Hermione guiding Ron through the knitting process. It was so naturally  _ them _ that Harry felt wrong to intrude. They had never treated him as an intrusion though. No matter what, they always seemed completely happy to see him. 

“Don’t you want to learn to knit, Harry?” Hermione asked, pulling Harry from thought. 

Ron sent Harry a small shake of the head, which earned him a jab from Hermione. 

“Erm, that’s alright, Hermione,” Harry said, sitting on the desk chair near them, and pulling up his knees to his chest. “I’m all fingers and thumbs.”

“That’s not hindering Ron!” She said, brightly, as though it were a great compliment.

Harry noticed the holes in Ron’s piece of knitting. “Couldn’t you fix those holes with some spell?”

Ron looked a little affronted. “That would be cheating, Harry! This is muggle knitting.”

“Besides,” Hermione chipped in, “It wouldn’t be at all simple. Dressmaking and knitting even with magic are really difficult. It takes years of training to do it in the first place because it’s so precise. And still, if you make a mistake you’d have to go back and change it.”

“I never really thought about all that.” Said Harry, thinking of Ron’s mangled dress robes that Molly had done her best with. It made a lot more sense. 

“How’s the party going then?” Ron asked as he seemed to get into what could be considered a rhythm with the knitting. 

“Weirdly,” Harry said, relaying George’s breakdown in vague terms (and without reference to what he’d been told about Angelina), and the conversation he’d had with Percy. 

Ron didn’t really take his eyes off his wool, but his eyebrows ascended to be invisible beneath his fringe. “Wow.” Ron said, “You seem to be having more emotional encounters with my brothers than I am.” It was a joke, but it didn’t really feel like a joke. Harry knew Ron had been feeling a bit distant from his family, but he wasn’t sure what he could do about it. He exchanged a glance with Hermione. Any sound of Ron’s insecurity always broke through her tipsiness. 

“Well I did Percy he shouldn’t go round trying to make amends with everyone so if he doesn’t say anything to you that might be why,” Harry admitted, hoping he hadn’t said the wrong thing. 

“I don’t want him coming asking for forgiveness.” Ron said, “I just want to know how they’re doing. I hardly ever see Percy, and George always seems like he’s putting on an act. I just want them to know they can talk to me.”

Hermione put her arm around his neck. “They know that, Ron.” She said, quietly. “Maybe they’re just not ready yet.”

Ron gave a small smile in response, and turned the conversation to the upcoming year, and making plans to go to Diagon Alley. Hermione had not confirmed she was returning, but looking at the smile on her face as they discussed the prospect, Harry could guess what she would do. 

Harry supposed it had always been naive to think everything would be alright after the war, but at moments like this it almost could be okay. Things could be okay, with the three of them here. Seeing Ron and Hermione, still loving so strongly - that was hope. 

* * *

By the time Percy went home, he was starting to sober up. After his talk with Harry, he’d returned upstairs and spent a while talking to his mum and the group of people she was standing with, with a couple of people he vaguely recognised from Hogwarts, and then Luna Lovegood. His sister had been there too, so he wasn’t sure if it was some sort of prank when the girl started talking about nargles, fenshaws, and other made-up things. He’d nodded politely, not wanting to prove he didn’t know something or seem rude by claiming these things didn’t exist. She’d been quite sweet, really, he supposed. His sister hadn’t seemed interested in speaking much to him though. 

He sighed as he entered his room. It was decorated just the way it had been since he left it when he’d left his family to live in London. Since he’d been back for the past month (after being forced by his mother), he hadn’t been bothered to change it, despite the memories it brought back. It was a mixture of comforting and guilt-inducing. Living here was only temporary, he reminded himself, though living with others was the only thing that kept him any sense of sanity. Percy would never be the sort to go out and seek social interaction but that didn’t mean he didn’t need it. Sometimes he wished his family would force him out of his room a bit more, as he’d never choose to leave it himself, but at others, he wanted to be completely left alone. It was unfortunate that it was often at these times when they wanted to invite him out. Maybe things were looking up though. He had a job now, and a bit of routine always made him more functional 

Percy laid in bed hoping sleep would take him, but of course, that was too much to ask. He had Oliver Wood on the mind, had he totally embarrassed himself? They’d been very close and if Oliver had leaned… but he shouldn't think about that. That wasn’t Oliver’s intention. Another voice in him niggled - wasn’t it? He was looking very intensely at you. Oliver had just been so fun to talk to, so attentive, his eyes so all-encompassing. Percy didn’t even really think about kissing him, though he thought he’d like to, but imagined them sitting together watching a muggle film, or cooking together in chaos, or going out for a drink and sitting quietly together. He couldn’t pinpoint what it was. 

There were always certain people Percy saw who he felt, in another life, could have been a soulmate, platonic or romantic. Just a certain connection when he looked into someone’s eyes, that they somehow understood each other, when he felt seen, recognised. It was hard to explain. It could be someone really old, or a muggle, someone he’d seen regularly, or someone he only saw once. Once or twice he’d discovered it wasn’t imagined. They’d been an old man he recognised and smiled at every time he saw him in a local coffee shop. There were lots of regulars but only one he always noticed. He wasn’t sure which of them had started the smile, and who had done the first nod, or the first “alright”. But once they’d stood next to each other in the queue, and the old man had said “Haven’t seen you in a while,” and then they’d chatted like old friends. A platonic soulmate, for sure, but it wasn’t imagined. Percy had comforted himself with that when he felt he didn’t quite understand people, he’d seen that connection, and he’d been seen. 

Oliver was similar. Obviously he’d known him before, but seeing him anew, that understanding was present, not just present but vibrant. He’d never quite understood Ron being so absolutely sure he could be with Hermione forever. He’d never had that level of connection; he’d liked Penelope, and thought she was beautiful, but he hadn’t felt that extra thing that people did. Now, he realised he’d never felt that extra thing, that romantic attraction, but maybe this pull was it. The way Oliver spoke with such enthusiasm, the way he listened, the way he laughed. It made his chest tighten. It wasn’t love but it felt like it could be.

But it wasn’t something he was healthy enough to pursue right now, Percy reminded himself. He could barely leave his bed sometimes. He had no direction in life, though he hoped the shop might help that, and what was Percy Weasley without a goal? Without something to work hard for? The way he lived currently was so aimless he may as well be a ghost. For the thousandth time, Percy wished it had been him who died, not Fred. He didn’t want to be alive at all. It was wasted on him. Which in turn made him feel sick for even thinking such things. He should be grateful, he should be living life to the full, but he couldn't. He hoped Fred understood. 


	5. I Wounded the Good and I Trusted the Wicked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted this at the same time as the chapter before for reasons unknown to myself - I guess I just put off posting for that long I got another chapter. Slightly more happens in this chapter. Also, all the characters are breaking down a bit but I think that isn't unsurprising.

Harry woke up early the next morning to the sun sneaking between curtains that weren’t quite shut. It was only a small amount of light, but, even all these years since living in a cupboard, he was very sensitive to light when he was asleep. Those days when the cupboard door was yanked open and someone was screaming at him to get up were not quite undone. He glanced at the clock. Jesus, it was 5:30 am. Then he was confused. That wasn’t Ron’s clock on the wall. In fact, that wasn’t Ron’s wall. He sat up quickly from where he lay on a mattress on the floor, though far too quickly because it made him dizzy and he was already exhausted.

He recognised the room and the mass of red hair that was just visible in the bed immediately. 

“Ginny?” He asked, voice hoarse. 

There was a grunt from the bed, but no real response. 

Harry was confused - why had he slept in here? He stood up and grabbed a bottle of water that was sat on the desk and drank from it. Things were starting to make a bit more sense now. They’d come back around one, just after Luna had left, and Ron and Hermione had been getting a bit handsy. They’d sworn they were going to be keeping everything PG, but Harry had taken pity and asked Ginny if he was alright to sleep on her floor. 

It was odd how normal that was, and how easy the transition had been from a relationship to friends. He supposed the only time their relationship had been more than friends was in sixth year, ever since they had hardly seen each other. He loved Ginny, but more and more he saw her as a sister. Maybe not a sister, actually, just like a good friend. 

He knew better than to wake her up, instead, he closed the curtains and spelled them so they’d be opaque until about 10, and went back to sleep. 

He was awoken a while later by getting trodden on. 

“Ahh.” Ginny shrieked, jumping back in surprise. She cast a quick Lumos right in Harry’s face. 

“Morning, Ginny.” He said, squinting up at her. 

Her face was pale as ever lit up in the dark of the room. “Jesus, Harry, you terrified me.” 

“Sorry.” He mumbled, “Time is it?” 

Ginny pointed her wand towards the clock. “Half-past nine.”

“Alright,” Harry said, considering going back to sleep as Ginny left the room. He decided it was best not to, so he sat up instead, thankful that he hadn’t really got drunk the night before. He tried to collect his thoughts from the night. He’d had that weird conversation with Percy, and a weird conversation with George, and information that he didn’t really know what to do with. He wasn’t quite close enough to either of them but would feel guilty doing nothing. Maybe Ron would get his brothers to open up. 

Ginny re-entered the room and switched on the light, immediately wincing. 

“Ergh.” She said as the room lit up. She stepped over Harry and drank some water from a glass on her bedside table. Then she reached into the cupboard and grabbed a potion. Harry recognised it from the label as a Hangover Cure. She grimaced when she took it and then sat in silence for a minute or two with her eyes closed. 

Her eyes snapped open again. “Okay.” She said, “I’m okay.” She looked at Harry, sat on the mattress on the floor. “Do you need some?”

“No, I’m good thanks,” Harry answered, quickly. He hadn’t noticed Ginny drinking much, but actually he hadn’t seen her for most of the night, which reminded him of the bet. How would they know if he’d been right about when she and Luna got together? “So,” Harry said, trying to be subtle as Ginny opened the curtains. “Did you have a good night?”

“Yeah, it was pretty fun.” Ginny said, “I mainly just hung out with Luna though, I didn’t know most people very well.”

“Yeah, neither,” Harry said. “Someone even assumed you and I were still together.” That was true, though Harry couldn’t really remember who it was, but it had been quite awkward. 

Ginny laughed lightly, shaking her hair out, and for just a moment he felt that spark, faded but not completely lost. “I mean I guess it really hasn’t been all that long.” She mused. “But somehow it also feels like a lifetime.”

“I agree.” Harry said, “There’s just been so much happening it feels like more than a couple of months.”

Ginny nodded as she sipped her water. 

“We’d both be fine with us dating other people, though, wouldn’t we?” Harry asked, hoping to get an answer that was ‘Yes, and I’m dating Luna.’ 

Unfortunately, Ginny got an excited glint in her eye and said: “Are you planning on asking someone out?” Harry didn’t like her eagerness.

“No, that’s not what I-” 

“So who’s the lucky person?” Ginny asked.

“There is no-one!” Harry said, quickly, knowing that, much like himself, Ginny could become very determined and he didn’t want her tailing him everywhere, especially if he had to be tailing her. ...That made him sound like a bit of a stalker. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Hmm. Okay.” She seemed about to get up and finish the conversation, which wasn’t ideal.

Harry hurriedly spoke: “Is there anyone you’re interested in?” 

She looked surprised and she just gave a small smile. “No, though I can’t say I’d be discussing it with you.” 

“Bit harsh,” Harry said. 

“Well, that would be a little strange.” Ginny chuckled, standing and grabbing her dressing gown, “So I guess I’ll let you keep your secret relationship. I’m going to get breakfast.”

“There’s no secret relationship!” He called after her but the door closed. Oh well, he’d go and annoy Ron and Hermione. 

* * *

Percy awoke to Harry shouting something at Ginny from next door. He could never sleep with less than full silence after years of using silencing charms to get any sleep at all, but now he refused them entirely for fear that anything could be happening and he didn’t hear. He drifted in and out of sleep for a while until finally there was a knock on his door. 

He groaned and got up to answer. His mum was stood there. 

“Morning, love,” She said, with a fond smile, “How are you this morning?”

“I’m fine,” Percy said because he was. 

She gave him another smile. “Good. If you have any washing to go in the basket could you put it there soon? Or it won’t be done unless you do it yourself.”

“Yes, mum,” Percy said. 

“Okay. Do you want to come and have some breakfast?”

Percy frowned. He was quite hungry, he supposed. “Okay.”

“Good.” She said. 

And that was that. Percy supposed he should put some clothes on for breakfast. Often he didn’t, but Ron’s friends were in the house, and he knew if he didn’t get dressed now, he might not at all. 

It’s not a hard task, Percy reminded himself. First, get some pants. Don’t think about all the other clothes. He got a pair. Now some jeans. He picked out the first pair he found. And a t-shirt that isn’t blue to not clash with the jeans. Achieved. He put the clothes on and pulled on an old Weasley jumper that was falling apart. He hadn’t brought himself to actually open the one he’d sent back to his mum years ago or any she'd sent since. Then he picked up all the dirty clothes he’d accumulated on a chair and put them in the wash. 

Breakfast now. 

Percy was relieved that the kitchen was quiet but less relieved that it was his mum and dad in there. The others would leave him be. His parents kind of did so, but they looked so worried about him all the time. He supposed being 22 and already having returned to living at home wasn’t exactly to be proud of. 

“Morning, Percy.” His father said, looking up from a copy of the Quibbler. Though Percy despised the Prophet, he wasn’t sure quite how useful the Quibbler was as an information source, though he couldn’t deny it was entertaining. 

“Percy,” His mother smiled at him and grabbed his cheek. “Good to see you up.” 

“Is it late?” He asked, realising he hadn’t checked the time. 

“It’s eleven.” She said, “Which is perfectly fine as we all stayed up late yesterday. Eggs?”

She made him some breakfast which he tried and failed to help with. Sat there eating scrambled eggs, his mother asked, 

“So, your father and I were wondering what you might like for your birthday, love.” She said, sitting down opposite him. He looked up in surprise. He’d almost forgotten his birthday himself. His dad looked like he’d been roped in for this conversation.

“Erm, not really,” Percy said, unable to think of anything he’d want. “Don’t waste money on my birthday, mum, I’m sure there are better things.”

Evidently, he’d said the wrong thing because she looked a bit upset. “Okay, what would you like to do to celebrate then?” She asked, hopeful. 

“I don’t really care about my birthday, mum, I don’t need anything doing.”

“But we’d like to do something.” She said, clasping her hands together, “After all, we haven’t seen you for your birthday for so long.”

Percy was well aware of this. The past three birthdays had been spent alone, in his flat in London, or at work. He hadn’t seen any use in worrying about birthdays. He’d sung himself happy birthday with a cake he bought himself the first year when he turned 19 and he’d only left his family a month or so before, but that had just made him sad, and feel even more alone that he had to buy his own stupid cake. The two years following he’d just tried to forget it. To detach himself from it. Truthfully, he’d ended up detaching from more than just his birthday. 

“No, mum.” He said, quietly but firmly, “No-one wants to celebrate my birthday. Least of all me. I’m sorry, but I don’t want to do anything.”

“But Percy, it could just be a small family thing!”

Percy sighed. “Mum, I just don’t think it's a good idea. I’m really trying to make amends but I don’t think some party celebrating me is really going to help that.”

“Percy it’s not-”

“That’s enough, okay mum?” Percy said, loudly, standing up and knocking the table by accident. “It’s a no.” 

With that, he stomped off up to his room. He felt a bit silly when he got there for acting like a child, maybe it was something about being at home that made him act like that, but he didn’t want a family thing celebrating him, it just felt wrong. He flopped on the bed still thinking. Harry and Ginny had both had their birthdays since the war, but they’d had a party with all their friends. A family party still made him feel a bit friendless, especially with the family he’d walked away from. 

“Knock knock.” 

Even if Percy hadn’t recognised his voice, there was only one person who said knock knock instead of actually knocking. A moment later the door opened and he glanced up to see his dad enter. 

“Can I come in?”

Percy held back the ‘well you’re already here’ and just grunted in agreement. His dad sat down on his bed next to where Percy lay staring at the ceiling.

“What is it, Perce?” His father asked, quietly. “We’re worried about you, and you deserve to have a nice birthday.”

Percy didn’t know what to say. There were too many things and he couldn’t pin down one. 

“Look, it doesn’t need to be a big deal. Just family. Doesn’t even have to include people like Fleur, or Harry and Hermione.” His dad said, which was obviously to try to help. The thing was with a lot of people it wasn’t such an issue, with just their family he couldn’t ignore the dynamic. 

“Dad, don’t you ever think about that Christmas that you were in hospital? And you almost died?” Percy didn’t look at his father.

“I suppose,” His dad said, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I heard that you were in hospital,” Percy said, “But I didn’t come and see you, or check you were okay. And I just know that you all resented me for it. Hell, Fred and George used to send me stuff - but I deserved it! They were right! You could have died and thought that I didn’t care about you.”

“Oh, Percy,” 

* * *

Arthur stared down at his son, unable to shake that feeling again that they had failed him. He hadn’t resented Percy when he left, though he was angry, because when he’d thought about it, he could understand why Percy felt he had to go. Had there not been a war going on, Percy might have become a bit distant from the family once he left school, but he’d have drifted back to them. As it was, it was a sudden break, drawing the line of the enemy in the sand. Percy left and they went into a secret society and a secret house. Arthur always knew Percy would come back if they didn’t all die first. But the war dragged itself out. He hadn’t returned when the return of Voldemort was confirmed. He hadn’t returned for Bill and Fleur’s wedding. But when he had come back, it was a complete return. In a blaze of glory in the battle, then mourning a brother, then living in the house like a mouse as if he’d never gone at all. 

“Percy, I never once doubted that you loved me. I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt that you weren’t there, but all is forgiven. It’s time to let the past go.”

“I can’t.” Percy said, a tear quickly swiped away, “My whole adult life I’ve been an arsehole. And none of you have even mentioned it at all in the past few months. Fred blew up at me the minute he saw me but then he forgave me and the last thing he said was to me. And I didn’t deserve that dad! George deserved those words. But I treasure them forever because it’s all I have. I missed out on years and now I can’t get them back.”

Arthur paused to think about his words. “I know.” He finally said, “I wish that too. I wish I’d gone to see him and George more once they moved out, or spent more time with them instead of letting them stay up in their room. What I’d give now for even a minute… But it’s all never enough. Because right now, I don’t see that much of George, or Bill, or Charlie. I see you, but I’m not sure you’re really there. Even if you’d been on good terms these past few years, you’d still absolutely want more time. And that’s just how horrible it is.”

“I know that logically.” Percy said, “But logic isn’t enough anymore. I just wish I could go back. Back to that argument, and say that I trusted you. Because really I think I did. Even then, if I had to have you or bloody Cornelius Fudge having my back, I’d have trusted you a thousand times over.”

Arthur didn’t know what to say. He too wished he could go back. He knew he’d wound Percy up that day, but also he knew there was some truth in what Percy had said. Perhaps he should have been more ambitious in life with seven children to care for. And trusting Dumbledore had been a leap of faith - after all Dumbledore was no angel. He’d trusted in Harry though, and perhaps that was part of the problem, taking Harry’s side over his son. 

“Thank you, Percy. I love you, you know.” Arthur said, “We all love you.”

“Okay,” Percy said, and maybe, finally, they were getting somewhere. 

* * *

That evening, Percy was sitting at his desk. He had a piece of parchment in front of him though it was empty except for a neat line down the middle, one side titled ‘guest list’ and the other ‘present ideas’. He’d been staring out the window for the majority of the time. Rain pattered against it, despite it being the middle of August. The fields had begun to go a little yellow, so the rain was fortunate, Percy thought. Just as he was about to return to his task, he noticed a bird flying up to the house. An owl it seemed. That was nice. Probably for Ginny, her friends were always owling her - Ron always had Harry and Hermione here so it was unnecessary. 

He was surprised when said owl came up to his window, about a foot away from him. Must be a dopey one. They rapped on the window and Percy rushed to unlatch it before the poor thing got completely soaked. They hopped in and shook their feathers out all over his parchment. He left the window open, as, despite the rain, the fresh air was nice.

“Cheers,” Percy said, sarcastically. They were beautiful though, deep brown and looking at him inquisitively. They held out their foot. Percy took the rolled-up bit of parchment and undid the bit of string to see who it was addressed to.

_ Dear Percy, _ the letter began. That was a surprise. He set it down to look at the owl. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” He asked the owl. They turned to look at the window and then back at him with what appeared to be a look of disgust. “I guess I wouldn’t want to go back in there either. Fine, have a rest.”

The owl pecked his hand. 

“Needy.” Percy chastised, though he went over to where he kept all his supplies for Hermes and found some owl treats. Owl distracted, he turned to his letter, which was bound to be boring he kept telling himself. 

_ Dear Percy, _

_ It’s Oliver. Just wanted to check how you were doing today? I’ve hardly had a productive day, guess we’re getting too old for staying up late. I don’t think you seemed too drunk so I hope you’re not suffering.  _

_ It was nice to catch up last night, we should keep in touch more. I hope the shop opening goes well on Monday, I’m sure I’ll be round soon to check on you.  _

_ Also, forgive me if I’m going crazy but isn’t it your birthday soon? I used to put my friends' birthdays on my calendar - now I only know the birthdays of people I was friends with in about second year and none since. Good job we’re still friends.  _

_ Hopefully see you soon, _

_ Oliver.  _

Percy didn’t know what to make of that. It said so little, but in that way it was weird. It was controlled for Oliver, no long tangents. But what did that mean? Maybe it just meant what it said. Anyway, he should just reply now to get this whole Oliver thing out of the way. 

He grabbed a new piece of parchment and wrote quickly: 

_ Dear Oliver,  _

_ Thank you for your letter. _

_ I am well today, thank you for asking, though I too was up late and still tired. I’m not sure I was ever predisposed to staying up late. _

_ Yesterday evening was pleasant, yes, as I dislike talking in big crowds.  _

_ It is my birthday soon, impressive. I couldn’t say what month yours was in I’m afraid. It is kind of you to call me a friend.  _

_ Regards,  _

_ Percy.  _

Could he send that? Did he want to? It certainly would succeed in pushing Oliver well away, but the letter he’d received seemed to want to put Percy back at the correct distance. Last night was an anomaly. Last night he’d strongly decided he wouldn’t pursue anything like this anyway. 

Well, what would he write naturally? 

_ Dear Oliver,  _

_ Thank you for writing to me.  _

_ I admit I slept in rather today, how we used to get up for lessons at 9 am I don’t know. Though how you used to get up for Quidditch at the crack of dawn was always concerning.  _

_ I enjoyed talking to you yesterday, I didn’t expect to enjoy the party if I’m honest but I’m glad that wasn’t the case.  _

_ Yes, it is my birthday soon, very impressive. My mum wants me to have a party so I’m currently trying to dissuade her of that idea. I think I remember yours being around Halloween? But I’ve never been good at remembering dates.  _

_ Imagine telling our fifth-year selves we’d be friends now, I remember us butting heads rather a lot that year.  _

_ Warm regards,  _

_ Percy.  _

_ P.S. Your owl is very rude and wanted food - are you starving them? _

Hmm. The second one was more accurate to what he wanted to say, but he was supposed to be getting rid of Oliver. Well, he supposed they could be friends. He didn’t really have friends anymore. 

Then again, he’d said so much last night that he should probably pull a reverse on that. He’d only ever managed to let people down and he didn’t want to do it again. 

Percy just wasn’t sure. He rolled both up and tied them; they looked identical. No matter. He held them both and switched them around a few times. 

At that moment, the brown owl swooped across the room and snatched both rolls out of his hands, then flew out the window he’d left open. So much for fate. 

Percy cringed, face already flushing. He desperately hoped one would get dropped on the way. Drafting letters wasn’t unusual, but writing contradicting things in both - like pretending he had no clue about Oliver’s birthday - was sure to be noticed. It was done now. Percy wasn’t going to try to shoot any spells at an owl, he’d just have to sit and wait. 


	6. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't going to exist but then because of the last chapter happening to end on the whole letter thing I came back and wrote this very short bit.

Oliver Wood wasn’t surprised when his owl returned with a letter, as he’d given her strict instructions not to leave without a reply. He was surprised, though, that it came with two versions of the same letter. 

It was clear that it was two drafts of the same thing - one far more reticent that screamed ‘I don’t want to talk to you’ and another which replied with the same level of friendliness as Oliver’s own. With anyone else, Oliver might have assumed that the friendly one was just an attempt to sound polite, and the rude one was the actual feelings of the other person showing as they tried to end a conversation. 

With Percy, though, that wasn’t what Oliver thought would be the case. Maybe he was naive, but the friendly one seemed a lot more relaxed and real. As well, Percy Weasley would probably have no qualms about being rude, but he would about being friendly. 

Oliver knew that he himself would hate for people to read his draft letters but he chuckled a little to think of the panic Percy was probably in right now. He wouldn’t reply just yet, because it was late and he was too tired to think of words to put down. 

When he did reply, though, he wouldn’t mention the two letters. He’d reply to the one he’d rather have got and pretend the whole thing never happened. He placed the two letters carefully in his drawer and stroked his owl, Iris. 

“You’re very naughty,” He said to her. “But thank you.” He didn’t know how he would have reacted reading the shorter letter. He might have taken it as a sign to back off forever. Though then again, maybe not. 

Percy Weasley was interesting. Oliver liked interesting. 


	7. It's Morning Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3:39am which tells you enough.

“Morning, Percy.” George was standing at Percy’s door, looking very much as if it wasn’t 9am - a time Percy never saw anymore - and that he had not just almost blown the door up trying to get in (being protected from most unlocking spells). He eyed Percy who was in pyjamas with his curly hair springing from his head and barely able to open his eyes. “You do know I expect you at work by 8:30 tomorrow?”

Percy groaned and mumbled something about torture, then he asked: “What do you want?”

“My dear brother, I brought you a gift.” George lifted the folders in his hands to Percy’s limited view. “A mountain of paperwork for you to get started on. Now you don’t have to start today, but knowing you, I thought you might like to take a look.”

Percy nodded and moved aside so George could bring it in and dump it on Percy’s desk, following and sitting on the edge of his bed, bleary-eyed. 

“What’s this?” George asked, brandishing a piece of parchment. Percy recognised the blotchy piece. “Guestlist. Present ideas.” He read. “Oi, why am I not on the guest list?”

“I didn’t write down anyone, idiot.”

“Oh, I thought this was your passive-aggressive way of telling mum you didn’t want a party,” George said with a shrug. 

Percy rolled his eyes. “No, I told that to her face.”

George threw the bit of paper back down and raised his eyebrows at his older brother. “Well, your funeral, mate. Besides, you’re having a party. Mum already told us to save the day over a month ago.”

Percy threw up his arms. “It’s not a wedding! Jesus Christ!”

“Ah, you know how mum gets. Don’t worry about it, it’ll just be a normal family gathering - you might even enjoy it. You are capable of enjoying things.”

“Don’t remind me, I miss the energy I used to give off that made people stay away.”

“You don’t mean that.” George said, with a tap on the files, “Anyway, I’m off. Don’t go back to sleep or you’ll never get up.” 

“Alright, mum!” Percy called, as George left the room with a chuckle. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Harry Potter was getting some cereal. He was stuck between Special K or Weetabix Crispy Minis. They were both his favourite muggle cereals. What was his mood? 

“Struggling there, Harry?” George Weasley reached the bottom step. 

“Oh, I just don’t know which cereal to have.” Harry said, “It’s a difficult decision.”

“Just stick them both together,” George said, cheerfully, opening the fridge and drinking some juice straight from the bottle. 

Harry frowned. “I’ve never tried mixing these cereals. It could work I suppose.”

“Great, problem solved,” George said, coming round the side of the table. “What are those cereals anyway? I’ve never seen them before.”

“Oh, they’re muggle ones. I just bought them because I wasn’t too keen on the other cereal options.”

“You know, I never liked the cereal mum bought much, but I never really considered just buying my own. I waited for the whole moving out thing, but then you have to do all your own shopping and cooking.”

“Yeah, I’m not the biggest fan of that.” Harry agreed, “That’s why I’m always eating here.”

George nodded, “Yeah you’re basically still a kid anyway, you’re only just 18. I’m sure mum would let you stay here forever anyway.”

Harry laughed in response, and then George left. He always seemed on the go. Harry worried sometimes he was too at home at the Burrow. It had taken ages before Ron had convinced Harry he could help himself to breakfast that summer before fourth year. Now he’d invaded the cereal cupboard. 

He hadn’t spent that long at the Burrow that summer, surprisingly. Grimmauld Place had been horrible to be in, so he’d rented a flat in London. More often, Ron came to stay with Harry than the other way round because it was quieter and didn’t have any past to it. None of them wanted to be alone.

It was a bit like what Harry imagined it would be like to go and see your parents once you were an adult and not living at home. Comforting, but could become stifling. He liked not being a guest though. 

* * *

Percy’s bedroom wasn’t big, but compared to the tiny flat he’d stayed in the past few years, it felt positively spacious. He’d enlarged the bed so it was almost a double, next which was his chest of drawers which also served as a bedside table. Opposite the bed in the corner and the chest of drawers was his desk in front of the window, which is where he pored over the stuff George had given him that morning.

He was making headway with the papers for the shop. He even quite enjoyed doing them. Paperwork was a matter of routine, find what you need, match everything together, spot inconsistencies - it was basically what Percy was trained for.

And, he thought, his ribcage involuntarily squeezing, this would be what he did. He’d sit in a little room and file paperwork. After the next few weeks where he’d be thrown back in, then he could go back to not worrying so much and not seeing people. Why did that thought make him feel so worried then?

It was funny. He’d had one proper conversation with George and suddenly he’d remembered what human interaction was really like. Enjoyable interaction. He hadn’t noticed he was missing it. There was something completely indescribable about just being with a group of people, and knowing that they wanted him there. It was nice to feel wanted and to make people laugh even with lame jokes. 

_ I haven’t heard you tell a joke Perce since you were- _

Percy dropped his quill as though it had burned him. He swallowed the lump rising in his throat and tried to ignore the tears that were welling in his eyes. God. How could anything be right again? He was worrying about silly little things, but he was fucking alive. 

He’d worried that he wouldn’t think about Fred enough, but Fred was everywhere. He could pick up a book that Fred had given him, or think about using the bowl Fred always used but then changing the moment he realised, or whenever he saw George, or made a joke, or thought about anything in the past -even if it was only supposed to be from the week before. Percy wouldn’t have it any other way - he wasn’t annoyed he thought about Fred - but every time he could swear he felt his heart drown at the knowledge Fred could never come back. Never speak again, never think again, or feel again. Completely dead. 

He didn’t know how George was surviving and had the suspicion that he wasn’t, not really. Or maybe he was surviving but not living. He knew everyone thought it was impossible for George to ever move on, but Percy couldn’t see how he ever could either. His little brother had died before his eyes and he hadn’t been able to do anything. 

Percy’s thoughts were interrupted by the return of the owl from yesterday hovering outside the window. At least that was a distraction, if not a particularly welcome one. He cringed again to think of Oliver finding two letters rather than one.

_ Dear Percy,  _

_ The crack of dawn is the best time for Quidditch! Just the thing to get you going! Those practices are what won us the Quidditch cup and I know you had a bet riding on that so no complaining.  _

_ Why don’t you want a birthday party? Everyone needs a birthday party! And you just said that you enjoyed the party the other night. My birthday is the 28th of October so very close, which means it’s always a costume party - that’s a good thing, not a complaint! _

_ That’s because in 5th year you were a prat. Though one could argue that 5th-7th year I was just a little too focussed on Quidditch. _

_ Highest, most wonderful regards, _

_ Oliver _

_ P.S. I definitely did not tell my owl to hang around for a reply... Well maybe I did - but I’m not starving her! She’s just greedy - her name is Iris but don’t give in to her!  _

Whether Oliver had received both letters or not, his response was clearly to the second one, which Percy supposed he was glad for. 

“Hello, Iris,” He said, giving the owl that was sitting on his desk a gentle stroke, “Shall I introduce you to Hermes? He’s in today.” At the mention of his name, Hermes hooted from atop the chest of drawers. His cage was left open in case he wanted to go out, or just fly around the house, but he sat calmly on his perch. Percy allowed Iris to hop on his arm and he walked over. “I suppose we had similar ideas with your names.”

Iris looked at Hermes with interest. Hermes was getting a bit older now, and his feathers had grown to make his face look a constant frown, but he didn’t seem concerned by Iris - until she tried to hop into his cage and he had to let out a soft “coo” of warning. 

Confident they wouldn’t kill each other if he turned his back, Percy returned to the desk. Should he reply straight away? Maybe not. Best to send Iris home after a rest and send Hermes out later. With that, he set the letter aside and pretended to have forgotten about it so he didn’t have to face his embarrassing mistake.

As things would turn out, it got to 11pm and Percy realised he really had ended up forgetting to reply to the letter Oliver had sent. He could do it now, but Hermes probably wouldn’t get there until well past midnight which was too late to send an owl rapping at a window. Besides, Percy had to sleep for the first day at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

* * *

“No, sir, I can’t drop the price for those products. The price is written on them, that’s the price.” Percy was already stressed and it was still the first week. 

“But the skiving snack box multi-pack has all four product boxes in for ten galleons.” A broad, rather intimidating man was staring Percy down. It was his fourth day, and the shop was already getting busy again. “Why can’t I get four boxes of nosebleed nougat for ten galleons?”

“I’m afraid that the skiving snack box multi is an offer,” Percy said, through gritted teeth. “You’re welcome to log a complaint with me though.”

The man scoffed, “I’m sure that would be helpful.”

“Well I do control the entire pricing structure,” Percy shrugged, “I don’t see that you could do much better.”

The man frowned, and slammed down the thirteen galleons, swiped up his boxes, and stormed out. 

Percy had to admit it gave him a little satisfaction, but it didn’t take away from the fact he hated doing this. 

“He looked cheery.” A familiar voice said. Percy glanced up in surprise to see Oliver Wood on the other side of the counter, eyes creased as he smiled at Percy. 

“Oliver! What are you doing here?” Percy blurted, confused. At the same time, the guilt that he hadn’t yet replied to the letter from Sunday overwhelmed him. 

“Erm, to buy something?” Oliver said as if he himself was unsure. 

Someone joined the queue behind Oliver. Percy didn’t like having a queue. “Okay,” Percy said, confused at Oliver’s empty hands, “What did you want to buy?”

“Erm, one of these,” Oliver said, grabbing one of the quills from the box by the counter. They played music when written with, but wore out pretty quickly. 

“Fifteen sickles,” Percy said, deciding just letting him buy it was the quickest option. Oliver handed over a galleon and Percy gave him the change. 

“Okay,” Oliver said, “Good to see you. I see you’re pretty busy here…” 

Percy rolled his eyes. Even he wasn’t this hopeless, “I’ll be on a break in about five minutes.” 

Oliver opened his mouth to speak but was broken off by: “Make that now.” George had wandered up to Percy behind the counter. “I can take over, but be back in half an hour, mind.”

“Yes, boss,” Percy replied with a mock salute. He and Oliver moved a few steps away. “So did you want something?” Percy asked, “And I don’t mean that pen.”

“Well, I thought I’d come and visit the shop now it's open.” Oliver said, “And seeing as you didn’t respond to my letter I thought I’d just check it hadn’t got lost somewhere. So many problems can arise from miscommunication.” His tone was light. 

Percy ran a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about that.” He said, “I really meant to reply yesterday but what with the shop and everything it slipped my mind a bit, and then I was worried yesterday it seemed a bit late.”

“I mean no worries, it was only a few days.” Oliver shrugged. “So is this supposed to be your lunch break?”

“Yeah, I normally just eat a sandwich in the back, but if you want to go and grab something…?”

“Sounds good.”

* * *

Food was always the best way to get people to talk - which was why Percy had been avoiding family meals and other invites to eat for as long as he could remember. There was no real escaping until the meal was over, so it was completely obvious if one didn’t want to talk about something. A quick drink could have an easy escape, eating less so. Percy supposed, though, if he actually wanted to gain some friends, going out to lunch couldn’t be the worst thing possible. He trusted he and Oliver could keep up a conversation for the duration - and at least if they couldn’t their mouths would be full anyway. 

They went to a cafe about ten steps from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Percy had never been inside before. It was cosy, wooden tables of various shapes and sizes dotted around without pattern, and a counter at the back. Percy had picked a table by the window and they perused the menu. 

“What are you getting?” Percy asked as Oliver put the menu back down after two seconds.

“Cheese and onion toastie,” Oliver replied, “It’s the only vegetarian thing.”

“Oh, sorry,” Percy said, quickly, “We could have gone somewhere else.” Percy hadn’t known Oliver was a vegetarian.

“No worries,” Oliver said, with what Percy could only describe as a roguish grin, “I like cheese.” He winked. 

“Did you just wink?” Percy blurted. 

“Maybe,” Oliver said, a smile playing on his lips. “Anyway, hurry up and pick before they come to take our order.”

“I guess I’ll have the same,” Percy said, thinking it’d feel weird to eat meat just after that.

“You don’t have to eat vegetarian for me, you know. I won’t be offended.”

Percy set down his menu, “I’m not!” He said though he was, “Just in the mood for it.”

Oliver nodded, though Percy couldn’t help but notice he looked pleased. 

The waiter, a twenty-something who Percy vaguely thought he might have seen at Hogwarts came to take their order. Throughout ordering, Percy couldn’t help noticing that the waiter seemed to smile at Oliver a lot. 

“So,” Oliver leaned his chin on his hands when the waiter left, “How’s the shop been?”

That launched Percy into several minutes of ranting about customers - who were the worst - and Oliver sympathising that it certainly sounded worse than playing Quidditch all day. Percy was glad to get his frustrations out - normally people just said ‘it wasn’t that bad’, which on individual cases it rarely was, but all day dealing with people was tiring. 

Their drinks arrived, and Percy gulped down some water. “How’s your week been anyway?”

“Oh, bit dull.” Oliver said, “Did some quidditch practice. Actually started reading a book. Broke up with my boyfriend. Watched some muggle tv. Worked on Quidditch strategies.”

“Wait, what was that second one?”

“Actually started reading a book?”

Percy rolled his eyes. “Well, yes, that’s quite impressive and I’d love to hear about which-”

“Pride and Prejudice.” Oliver interrupted, “It’s this famous muggle book about-”

“I know it. I love it. Stop distracting me.” Percy said, quickly, “You know I meant the third one. The ‘I broke up with my boyfriend’ one.”

“Ah, yeah,” Oliver said, glancing down at the table. “That one.”

There was a silence where Oliver didn’t elaborate. “So,” Percy said, “Are you okay about it?”

“I thought I would be.” Oliver said, “But I’m actually kind of sad, I guess. It wasn’t perfect but what if there’s never anything better? He could put up with me droning on and on about things - even though I couldn’t talk about Quidditch, I started following muggle football. And he didn’t mind that I’m not particularly good at dating - I forget dates, and sometimes I just don’t want to talk, but others I talk endlessly. So I guess I just don’t know if I did the right thing.”

Oliver’s eyes met Percy’s own, which was when Percy realised he should be making some kind of response. “Erm,” Percy said, taking a drink to gather his thoughts. “You shouldn’t settle, because that’s not fair to you or to them. If you weren’t feeling right then there’s no point continuing.”

“Maybe.” Oliver said, “But maybe it could have worked with time? Or maybe I’m just supposed to settle. There can’t be someone perfect for everyone.”

“Maybe not perfect.” Said Percy, “But I think there are multiple people who can be right. And I’m sure you’ll find one.” 

“Yeah,” Oliver said, quietly. “Maybe.”

* * *

Percy sadly had to return to work - though he was a little later than the half-hour he’d promised George. Oliver had gone off talking about Quidditch strategies and Percy countered with the flaws - “Everyone will expect the Parkin’s Pincer from your captain, she’s Skye Parkin! But use that and fake them out.” 

Percy was not really much good at creating strategies, but he could easily follow and spot the issues. He thought Oliver seemed to appreciate it rather than get frustrated. He hoped. 

He was back at his counter when he saw Ginny and that blonde friend of hers, Luna, enter. As he watched them walk in, he noticed the door seemed to hold itself open for a minute, but shook it off as nothing. 

“Hey Perce,” Ginny said, nodding to him as she approached the counter. 

“Hi,” Percy said, more awkward than one should be with their own sister. 

“Hello, Percy,” Luna said, with a smile. “How is work going?”

Percy shrugged. “A bit stressful. How are you?”

They exchanged some pleasantries, then went to find George to say hello. As they left, he noticed a stepstool get knocked by an invisible presence. Well, he hadn’t imagined that, unless he really was going crazy. 

He had to serve a customer so he did that quickly and considered his next move. Surely he didn’t really think someone was following Ginny and Luna? 

Best to check. It was getting quieter in the shop and there was no immediate need for him. He followed vaguely where he thought Ginny and Luna had gone and spotted them down one set of shelves. The other side of the same shelves something moved. It was the tiniest little movement, some packets getting squished. Percy wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been looking for it, and looking at the exact right moment. It was quite far down the shelves, so he backtracked and went around from the other side - checking his counter was still not needing him. 

The moment he got round he tiptoed the first few steps down the aisle very quickly with his arms outstretched, really hoping no-one was watching as he was faintly aware he looked ridiculous. 

He hit something, though not with enough force to fall, and felt some material under his hands which he pulled at. 

“Harry?!” Percy whispered automatically despite the shock. 

Harry Potter looked startled. “Shit!” He said, “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Isn’t it?” Percy asked, casting muffliato. “Really, Harry, you can’t spy on my sister.”

“I wasn’t spying!” Harry protested. Before Percy could dispute this, Harry said, “Well, maybe I was. But not for why you think.”

“Why, then?” Percy asked, hoping for a good excuse. 

Harry looked a little ashamed, “Okay, it’ll sound stupid, but Ron, Hermione, and I made this bet on when Ginny and Luna would get together, and I bet on the party the other day, but the problem is we don’t know if they’re together, so I don’t know if I won.”

Percy raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth to speak.

“I know, I know,” Harry said, “We shouldn’t gamble and we certainly shouldn’t spy to conclude it - but it wasn’t about money! It was about pride!”

Percy had to bite back a laugh. “Okay.” He said. “But you shouldn’t follow them around. Also, you should better utilise this cloak of yours.” He realised he was still holding the item. Percy wished he had one of these. 

Harry smiled with relief and held his hand out for the cloak. Percy was reluctant. 

“You can have this back on one condition.” He said and Harry looked dismal. Percy enjoyed this power, maybe he should be a teacher. “You let me in on this bet.”

Then again, maybe not. 


	8. Golden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was a bit of a clown and was editing the chapter before this when I realised I'd already posted it. Plus I don't really know what is happening in this fic so it's blind leading the blind at this point, maybe I should have planned. Anyway, thank you for reading !  
> Also, an apology that this fic is named after a Taylor Swift song

_ Dear Oliver,  _

_ Here is your long awaited reply, though I think we covered all the topics in our lunch conversation. Thanks for lunch, by the way, though you shouldn’t have paid for mine when I went to the toilet! I guess that means I owe you.  _

_ If before you got two letters from me, thanks for not mentioning it, if you didn’t, forget you ever read this. _

_ Anyway, it seems my birthday is officially taking place this Saturday at 5pm if you seriously want to attend, I know it’s last minute. _

_ I don’t really have anything to say. This is my owl Hermes, by the way, so I appreciate your choice of Iris - Goddess of Messages. Guess that means you’re a bit of a nerd too - thought you only knew Quidditch. _

_ Hope you’re a better replier than me,  _

_ An abundance of regards,  _

_ Percy Weasley  _

That was the letter that Percy Weasley had sent at 7pm on Thursday the 20th of August. At 8:45pm Hermes returned with a letter. 

_ What’s up, Percy, _

_ That’s not a literal question, I’m just testing out some slang. I guess you do owe me - and you’re repaying me by a birthday party! _

_ I don’t know what all this is about your birthday ‘officially happening’ on Saturday - your birthday is on Saturday, that makes it official. Of course, I was serious about coming, a man only turns 22 once. Besides, I’m sure there will be cake.  _

_ I may have received two letters, Iris is very reliable. I just thought it was quite funny (in a nice way) - but I would die if my draft letters got sent out. I’m glad I got the nicer one delivered though.I hope that was the more honest one.  _

_ Hermes is a nice choice - isn’t it amazing I know more than just Quidditch! Truly a man of talents.  _

_ I will see you on Saturday unless told otherwise, don’t worry about replying to this letter if you’re busy/stressed/don’t like writing letters.  _

_ The Most Bountiful Regards, _

_ Oliver  _

That was that then. 

Percy had replied with a short note - beginning, of course, that the sky was up - which had led to a back and forth of short letters over the next couple of days, particularly when Percy was at work as Oliver lived in London so the flight was short. It did make Percy think he should invest in a book that did page messaging or the like, so hopefully George would pay him soon. 

Speaking of George, the man in question was currently trying to persuade Percy he shouldn’t come in at all the next day, the Saturday of his party, and George would just close up a little early. 

“But George, it’ll be our busiest day!” Percy said, “You can’t just do it on your own. And it’s only my birthday for Merlin’s sake.”

“I know,” George said, “But you’ve been working since Sunday and I can’t take advantage of you.” They’d just closed up for Friday and were standing upstairs in George’s flat. 

“Look, I want to,” Percy said, “We’re in this together, okay?”

George smiled. “Okay fine.” He conceded, “I’ll put the signs up asking for staff tonight. Also you can come in late on Sunday, I know you hate the mornings.”

Percy wasn’t going to turn that down. “Okay, so I’ll see you in the morning then?” Percy said, picking up his bag. 

“Oh, actually, Percy, I was wondering,” George began, and Percy plonked his bag back down.

“Yeah?”

“If you wanted, you could stay in this flat, rather than be back at Mum’s.” George asked it casually, as almost a throwaway comment, but that seemed unlikely. 

“In Fred’s room?” Percy asked, then cursed himself for calling it that.

“Yeah,” George said, “Except it would be yours.”

Percy wasn’t sure if he could do that. 

“If it helps any, Fred hasn’t stayed there for over a year.” George said, “And he removed almost everything back then, our room at the Burrow has more of him than this place. We could redecorate it, change everything...”

“Are you sure George?” Percy said, “I wouldn’t want to feel like I was intruding.”

“I’d rather you were there than no-one. This place feels empty. I’d like to live with a brother again.”

“I’ll think about it,” Percy said, and he meant it. Part of him said yes, of course: it made sense to live above the shop, he’d live with family without literally living with his parents, plus George was one of his only friends. The other half of him said he couldn’t sleep in a room where his dead brother had, and live the life his dead brother should have had, and that’s what it always came down to. 

George nodded, unsurprised, and Percy left.

* * *

Five minutes after Percy Weasley left for work on his birthday, Molly began preparations. She began making the mixture for the cake she envisaged - a pile of books stacked high and precariously - and consulted her task sheet again. All the morning tasks were divided up between her, Arthur, Ron, Harry, and Ginny - and she was expecting Charlie, Bill, and Fleur in the afternoon. 

“I thought Percy didn’t want much of a party,” Ron said, as he assisted putting up the marquee with his parents.

“This isn’t much of a party.” Molly insisted, “There’s only going to be a few of us. Besides, we’re showing Percy that we care. He might not think he wants it but we’re doing it anyway.” Molly hoped she knew her own son. She wasn’t creating anything crazy, but a calm garden party with family and select others - all approved by Percy - but equally she wanted to put effort into his party. Part of her felt that Percy was avoiding the idea of a party because he didn’t think people loved him enough to care about it. She was determined to prove that wrong. 

Arthur hadn’t told her exactly what Percy had said the other day, but she got the general of it: he still felt guilty for abandoning them. A tiny, tiny part of Molly felt happy about that - that he really did care for them, that she hadn’t gone through all that for him to dismiss it. But it had gone on too long and she didn’t want her son to hurt anymore. 

“Okay, that looks good,” Molly said, admiring the work they had done. “Now, I need to go to work on the cake. Harry and Ginny are helping prep food, can you two put up the bunting? And then bring the tables out, and generally decorate?”

Arthur and Ron nodded quickly before they got subjected to a lecture on how exactly to go about decorating. 

Molly rushed back to the kitchen, where Harry seemed to be cooking pasta while Ginny just hung around. Molly thought it best not to mention that right now, as Ginny was known to be a bit of a hazard in the kitchen, but she couldn’t think of anything better for her to do at that moment. 

“Mum,” Ginny said, leaning on the counter, “Are you cooking for the entirety of Hogwarts?”

“Ginny, don’t be silly, we just want to make sure there’ll be enough.”

Ginny glanced at the massive pot of pasta and the piles of ingredients out to create bitesize foods. “There’ll be enough.”

“That’s good then.” Molly said, “How about you clear up the living room, Ginny, and then start on cleaning.”

“I’m helping Harry with the cooking!” Ginny exclaimed.

“No, you’re not.”

“No you’re not.” Both Harry and Molly said. Molly smiled fondly at Harry. 

“Fine.” Ginny said, “But it’s hardly like the Queen is coming.”

Molly shook her head and just let her daughter go off. 

“Okay, how are we doing then Harry?” She asked, looking at the list of food and working out timings in our head. 

“I’ve got the pasta salad under control.” He replied, “But I’m not sure how to make some of the other stuff so I thought I’d wait for you.”

“That’s okay, we’ll get started on that now, that is if you’re alright just helping with the cooking all day?”

“No problem,” Harry said, with a smile, “I actually quite like cooking.”

“Finally!” Molly exclaimed, “I always wanted a child who liked cooking.”

At that, Harry abandoned his pasta and hugged her. She squeezed tightly feeling her eyes well up a little. A moment or two passed. 

“Anyway,” She said, pulling away and wiping her eyes quickly, “We’ve got to get on.”

“We have.” Harry said, blinking quickly. 

Molly loved her children. 

* * *

Since inviting Oliver, Percy had let all his siblings know they were welcome to invite a friend or two as long as they were run by him first. He had a feeling his mum had told them not to ask him before that, and honestly he might have been a little hurt if they’d needed to bring a friend so they didn’t have to talk to him. With Oliver coming though, he didn’t want that to stand out if everyone else was just family. As well, though, Harry and Hermione were bound to end up coming as basically family, and Fleur would of course, so it seemed only fair. 

Percy had written down every guest. There was Bill and Fleur. Charlie, who had jokingly asked to bring Meredith, a fully grown dragon, wasn’t bringing anyone as his friends were all in Romania and had never met any of the family before, George was bringing Angelina and Alicia, as Lee had gone off travelling. Ron obviously had Harry and Hermione (though Percy hadn’t included them as Ron’s additional people and had told him he was welcome to invite others.) and Ginny was bringing Luna. Then there were his parents, luckily none of the extended family. Fifteen, included himself and Oliver. Manageable. 

He flooed home at 4:30 and was immediately shooed upstairs and given half an hour to get ready. He showered, and then contemplated clothes. Was it supposed to be a smart party? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t think so. In the end, he put on a usual white shirt, maroon sweater combination with black jeans, forgoing robes. He got ready within ten minutes, purposely so he could sit and do nothing for twenty. 

He lay on his bed, thinking. What had he been thinking for the past few years? How had he appeared? He’d always known he didn’t necessarily come across well - he’d always known he could be a bit boring but he’d tried to seem intelligent. Now he cringed, thinking of how, in fearing how he came across, he’d become worse. Not having confidence but cockiness, and seeming to believe he knew better than everyone else. He often wished he could turn back time. When would he go to? When he left the family? No earlier. Fifth year? First year? When he was seven? 

Even he couldn’t pinpoint when it had all gone wrong. He had no belief he was perfect now, he still was boring, and stuffy, but he hoped he wasn’t narcissistic or uncaring. People could put up with boring people. 

There was a knock on his door. Surely it hadn’t been twenty minutes? 

“Come in!” He called, sitting up. His brother, Ron entered, which he hadn’t expected. 

“Hey,” Ron said.

“Hi,” Said Percy, “Am I needed?”

“Not yet,” Ron replied, pulling out Percy’s desk chair and swivelling it to face the bed before sitting on it. “Happy Birthday.” He said.

“Thank you,” Percy said, confused. 

“Guess you’re getting pretty old, huh, twenty-two,” Ron said. 

“Ancient,” Percy agreed, “Did you want to say something Ron?” It was often best to be direct with Ron. Like Percy, he could circle round a subject for hours without really saying anything.

Ron’s eyes widened. “Yeah,” He said, “I guess.”

Percy frowned, “What does that mean?”

“I-” Ron paused, and then spoke quickly, “I just wanted to check that you were okay. In general, I mean, not just today or with the party - although also that and I don’t really know why I picked now because it’s not really the best time -”

“Stop babbling,” Percy said, and was amazed it worked immediately. He felt rather touched though. “I think I’m okay.” 

“Okay, just Harry said you apologised to him about that letter you sent-”

Percy slapped his hand to his head, “I’m sorry, Ron, I should have apologised to you about that too, and for so many things.”

“No, that’s not what I’m getting at, Perce,” Ron said. “You have to stop apologising, which I’m sure Harry told you. You’ve apologised to us enough, you don’t need to go remembering every single thing, we know.”

“Oh,” Percy said, “Okay.”

“I really do want to see if you’re okay.” Ron said, “I know we all feel guilty and horrible and sad about so many things, but I’m worried you’re carrying too much. You can talk to me, you know.”

“I-” Percy didn’t know what to say. 

“Just,” Ron said, “If you feel alone, you don’t have to be. Even if you don’t want to talk, we can just hang out. Just because we’re brothers doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

“You’ve become very emotionally intelligent,” Percy observed. 

“Well, Hermione does that for you, I guess.” He said with a smile. “But, think about it, okay?”

“I will.” Percy said as Ron got up to go, “And Ron?”

His little brother turned.

“Thanks.”

* * *

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Percy wasn’t entirely surprised by this shouting as he’d been told to go to the garden. He did smile though, seeing his family and the others there all smiling at him outside the marquee, which was big inside and had several tables covered with food. He was ashamed to say his heart seemed to twinge with happiness seeing Oliver Wood among them - but that was because it was his friend there for a birthday. He was doused with hugs.

“Happy birthday!” Oliver said, when his turn came, hugging Percy quickly but tightly. Percy was then grabbed by Charlie, who, along with Fred and George, had always been the brother he was closest with, being only a few years older, even if Bill and Charlie had used to pair off a lot. 

“Happy birthday, little brother,” Charlie said, ruffling his hair (which he had to stretch up to do, Percy felt smug about) “I’ve checked and you have four Quidditch captains at this party, though I say that’s still not enough.”

“Make that five!” Ginny said, overhearing, “I got my badge yesterday! I’m captain next year!”

“Congratulations!” Charlie exclaimed. 

“Well done, Ginny.” Percy said, genuinely proud, “You’ll be scouted for professional teams before you know it.”

“Thanks,” She said, and Percy was surprised to see her grin at him properly. “I don’t think eighth years are eligible or I’m sure it would have gone straight to Harry.”

“Not a chance,” Harry chimed in. “Ginny, you’re the best chaser in Hogwarts - which is far more impressive given the number of chasers. Plus, you could give me a run for my money as a seeker.”

“I’m not sure Harry has the commitment either,” Oliver said, in a joking tone, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you falling half asleep in my training talks, Harry.”

“We all fell asleep in those!” Alicia Spinnet also appeared to be in the conversation now. Percy wondered how Quidditch talk seemed to attract all the players like flies. 

“Yes, and you all didn’t have the drive.” Oliver said, “Though I must admit, saying to Harry that he should catch the snitch or die trying might have been going a little too far.”

“I’m not sure.” Angelina Johnson was here too, “That Oliver spirit of caring about nothing except Quidditch is what won us the cup when I was captain.” 

Oliver laughed, as they continued to reminisce. 

“I like Quidditch but this lot take it to a new level.” A voice said quietly in Percy’s ear. 

He turned to see his eldest brother, glad to be out of this conversation about something he was never involved in. “Quidditch mad.” Percy agreed. 

“Well, as the only two siblings who don’t play Quidditch, we’d better stick together,” Bill said. “Though you were never as thoroughly incompetent as me.”

“What are you talking about?” Percy said, “I was always awful.”

“That’s not true!” Bill said, with greater force than Percy expected, “You were terrible as a child, but that was because we didn’t know you needed glasses. Once you could actually see, you were a decent seeker.”

“I wasn’t completely awful, I suppose.” Percy conceded, remembering how relieved he’d been once he got his glasses and realised hand-eye coordination wasn’t as completely impossible as he’d always thought. By then, Charlie was so good at seeking that Percy had assumed he was terrible - it was much later he’d found out Charlie was incredibly good at it, making Percy above average. Seeking was better than chasing or beating because Percy was never very good at teamwork. 

“What’s all this?” Oliver had obviously been listening in, “I was killing myself to find a Seeker and a reserve and you didn’t mention you’d be half decent?”

“I never would have played!” Percy sputtered, confused by the turn of conversation, “I wasn’t good enough to play.”

“That’s not true.” Bill said, “You were good enough for a house team.”

Percy just shook his head. 

“Why don’t we play a match?” Oliver said, “And you can prove it.”

Bill frowned. “Maybe not right now. I couldn’t be sure but I doubt that’s how Percy wants to spend his birthday.”

Percy threw Bill a grateful look as he’d probably have gone along with Oliver’s suggestion.

“Well, sometime when it’s not your birthday and I don’t have to be nice to you, I’m forcing you to play,” Oliver said.

“Fine,” Percy nodded, “But keep your voice down or everyone will be wanting to play Quidditch and Mum will be annoyed that her party isn’t going to plan.” 

Oliver went back to talking Quidditch and Percy was pulled away by Bill.

“So, Oliver Wood, huh?” Bill said when they were safely by the food table at the other side of the marquee.

“What?” Percy said, a fraction too quickly. 

“Are you…?” 

“Friends?” Percy asked, ignoring Bill’s implications, “Yes.”

“Okay, okay,” Bill said holding his hands up, “I’m just saying it wouldn’t be bad if there was anything more.”

“There isn’t,” Percy said. “Oh, wine.” He spotted the wine sitting right next to him. 

“Like a moth to a flame.” Bill laughed. “I think mum wants to open the champagne first.”

“That’ll do,” Percy said, picking up the bottle of champagne.

“For what it's worth he clearly likes you,” Bill said.

“What?” Percy said, looking up from where he was working out the cap of the bottle.

“Well, he came to your party which I doubt was something you asked him to do, clearly mainly wants to talk to you, and he’s looking over right now.”

Percy looked over quickly just in time to see Oliver look away quickly and pretend to be in deep conversation. 

Bill obviously decided that he’d pressed enough. “PERCY’S OPENING THE CHAMPAGNE.” He shouted. 

Having some sense upon seeing the bottle was one bearing WWW, Percy took the bottle out of the marquee into the garden followed by the family. 

He popped it open. It began with a very satisfying pop that shot confetti all over and what seemed to be butterflies flew amongst it. Then the bottle began singing Happy Birthday and everyone joined in for a round of the song. Percy’s ear tips went red from embarrassment, but a touch of love. He remembered how at Hogwarts there’d be a happy birthday song from the friends of whatever poor sod’s birthday it was and he’d always been glad that his birthday was during the holidays. Now, though, he kind of wished he’d had that. 

“Okay, enough of that, I need glasses.” 

Somehow, despite the apparent size of the bottle, it filled all their glasses easily so Percy felt rather like Jesus only spreading champagne instead of bread. 

Maybe this would be a good birthday, if he could forget drinking two bottles of wine by himself and passing out crying when he turned twenty. 


	9. Refused to Settle Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy gets mad at Oliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I only post in pairs now. Anyway, I have 3x 3000 word essays due on the 24th so basically I'm fucked. Hope everyone is keeping safe.

“So, if you’re Quidditch captain does that mean I have to come to all the Quidditch games again this year?” Hermione had spotted Ginny alone for a moment getting a drink. 

The other girl turned to grin at her, freckled as ever. “Oh certainly.” She said, “Does that mean you’re definitely coming back?” 

“Well,” Hermione said quietly, looking down. Then her expression morphed, “Yes I am!” She said, excited to finally get it out. 

“Oh that’s amazing!” Ginny said, pulling her in for a hug. “I’m not sure I’d survive the year without you.”

Hermione smiled. She’d missed Ginny the year before, and was glad they got the final school year. “I confirmed it with Professor McGonagall just yesterday.”

“Wow.” Ginny said, calming herself down. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Happy.” Hermione said, “I really, really want to go, it’s just…” She trailed off.

“Your parents.” Ginny said, with a sympathetic half-smile. 

“Yeah.” Hermione said, “I’ve been given permission to visit them weekly.”

“At least that’s something.” Ginny said, “I have every faith they’ll be fully recovered soon though, they’ve received the best memory-care there is. And the Healer is still coming weekly, right?” 

Hermione nodded, “I know. And they know I’m their daughter, they’re just a bit fuzzy. Sometimes I walk in and they don’t recognise me. I guess I’m worried that’ll happen more if I’m not there.”

“It might.” Ginny said, honestly, “But that’s only brief. They’re not deteriorating, they’re improving. They’d want you to go and have your last year, Hermione.”

“I hope so.” Hermione said, glancing round to check no-one was listening. “They just seem to be able to get on so well without me. They lived in Australia not knowing they had a daughter, now they have me but they’ll be fine with me going away, I know really. But I always miss them, and want them.” She was on the verge of tears as she whispered frantically. 

“Oh, Hermione,” Ginny said, rubbing Hermione’s shoulder, “They miss you, I’m sure, even when they didn’t know what they were missing. Besides, you get on without them, you just miss them, I’m sure that’s how they are too. It doesn’t mean they love you any less.”

“Thanks,” Hermione said, smiling a little, “I’m really glad you’re the first person I talked to about this.”

“I’m the first person you talked to?” Ginny said, her voice going up in pitch, surprise evident. 

“Yeah.” Hermione said, “I haven’t been wanting to confirm I was going back in case it all fell through, or something went wrong with my parents.” SHe shrugged, “But don’t sound so surprised I told you first! You’re one of my absolute best friends.”

“One of,” Ginny teased.

“Well, you know Harry, he gets sulky if I call anyone else my best friend. You’re both on the same level.”

“Always a pair.” Ginny sighed. 

“So,” Hermione began, wondering how to get the details on Ginny and Luna without bringing them together before the day she’d bet on (which she didn’t dwell on because it didn’t reflect too well on herself) “Where’s Luna? Rare that you two are apart.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’s around.” Ginny said, not meeting Hermione’s eyes, “I was supposed to be getting us drinks.”

“Cute,” Hermione said, just to get a reaction from Ginny. She got what she wanted with the light blush coming up Ginny’s neck. “You’re whipped.”

“Ha ha.” Ginny said, rolling her eyes, “Anyway, stop distracting me. You should talk to my annoying brother about the fact you’re going back to Hogwarts.”

“Which one?” Hermione asked, eyes glinting mischievously. 

“Obviously Ron.” Ginny said, “Though I understand that confusion.” Her gaze had fallen on Charlie and Bill walking around with George on their shoulders singing God Save the King.

“I will.” Hermione said, with a lot more confidence than she felt. She wasn’t even sure why she was so worried. 

“Okay I can tell there’s some whole thing there,” Ginny said, “But it’s probably all in your head and you should talk it out with him. I can’t do relationship stuff involving my brother, but often he has some kind of worry about you and it’s also completely unfounded. If you’re still having problems, come and find me though.”

“Thanks, babe.” Hermione said, “Oh shit, did I just call you babe.”

Ginny laughed, “You sure did, babe.”

* * *

It was an hour into the party, and Percy had barely seen his mum twice. She’d come out and top up people’s glasses, or bring out some nibbles, but she didn’t seem to be lingering. 

Excusing himself from the conversation about the Hogwarts cursed vaults he was having with Bill and Fleur, he went to the kitchen and found her. 

Somehow, his mum was still putting bits of food in the oven as he walked in. 

“Percy!” She said, with a smile, “What are you doing here? You should be enjoying the party.”

“So should you.” Percy said, leaning on the counter. “Mum, you should enjoy the party you put on.”

“I just need to get these things done, and then prepare desserts to put out, and…” 

“Okay, mum,” Percy interrupted, “There’s no rush. Please take a bit of a break, it’ll make me happy.”

“Will it?” She said, “You never seem to be happy, Percy.” She put down her wand and came to stand opposite him. “I just want you to be happy.” 

Percy felt horribly guilty again. He knew his mum wanted him to be happy, it wasn’t her fault that that was so hard. “I am happy mum.”

“I hope so.” She said, sounding tired. 

“No, seriously.” Percy said, “This party is great, and it’s just what I’d want. Thank you.” He grabbed her hand on the counter and gave it a light squeeze. 

She smiled. “I’m glad. I just want your first birthday back with us to be just right. Every missed one I thought about you, and I hoped wherever you were you were happy.”

“I wasn’t.” Percy said, with a grimace, “And I missed you, and I thought you all hated me - which you’d be right to. But I really am happy to be here with you all.”

“Oh, Percy, baby, I could never hate you.” His mum came round the counter and engulfed him in a hug. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too, mum.” Percy said, “Which is why I’d like you to enjoy this party. That would make me happy.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” SHe said, “But these have twenty minutes in the oven so after that.”

Percy hit his head lightly in frustration. At that moment, Oliver entered the kitchen. 

“Ah, Percy,” He said, “THere you are. Hi, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Hello, Oliver.” She said. 

“Ah,” Percy said, “How about Oliver and I just wait the twenty minutes and you can go and join the party. And then you can do the desserts in an hour or two.”

“Fine,” His mum said, reluctantly, casting a suspicious look at them. “Don’t forget them, mind.”

“We won’t,” Percy promised, and she took her apron off and went out to the garden. 

* * *

“So, we’re on kitchen duty?” Oliver asked, leaning against the counter next to the oven. 

“Yeah, sorry,” Percy said, tapping his fingers on the wooden surface. It wasn’t very satisfying.

“No bother to me,” Oliver said, “As long as you’re not hiding from your own birthday.”

“Why would I do that?” Percy asked, “I’m just helping my mum.”

“Okay,” Oliver replied, “Thanks for inviting me, by the way.”

“Did I invite you or did you invite yourself?” Percy asked, causing Oliver to look up quickly from inspecting his fingernails. Percy cracked a smile. “I’m joking.”

Oliver chuckled a little. “Cool.” There was a pause. “Cool.” 

The kitchen was weirdly quiet. The clock ticked loudly as ever, and the noise of the party was distant, it sounded like it was underwater. Shrieks and laughs echoed in an unreal kind of way. The sun was getting toward setting and orange light beamed in, lighting the kitchen. 

“Can I ask you something, Percy?” Oliver asked. “And don’t say: You just did.”

That was exactly what Percy had been about to say, but he bit it back. “Sure,” he said. 

“How do I put this?” Oliver mused, making Percy more worried by the minute. “The thing is: I like you.” It was direct, and Percy didn’t really know what to make of that. “And I guess, I was wondering if you liked me too? You know, like that?”

Percy hesitated. Oliver’s brown eyes bored into his, waiting. The sun moved to shine across his face and he was the most beautiful person Percy had ever seen. He couldn’t do this though. “I do like you,” Percy began, slowly.

“But there’s a but coming,” Oliver concluded. 

“Yeah,” Percy said, “Quite a few.”

“Well, go on.”

“The obvious is that you’ve only just finished a relationship,” Percy said, and Oliver opened his mouth to protest but Percy waved him down. “I know you say it wasn’t serious, but it was still something and I wouldn’t want to feel like a rebound. The second thing is that everything’s a mess right now and I’m not prepared for a relationship right now.”

“It’ll never be the right time though,” Oliver said, softly, “And it doesn’t have to be all in full commitment.”

“I know,” Said Percy, “But then there’s the third thing.”

“What’s the third thing?” Oliver asked, concerned. 

“You-” Percy tried to think of a tactful way to say this, “Have you ever noticed you get very obsessed with things?”

“Well, with Quidditch, obviously.” Oliver said. 

“Yes, but with people too,” Percy sighed, he wanted to sit down rather than stand around a kitchen. “Do you remember in second year we were best friends from about Christmas?”

“Oh, yeah,” Oliver said with a smile, “And that summer we were constantly writing to each other - I think I used more parchment on that than on my schoolwork.”

“But do you remember why that ended?” Percy asked. 

Oliver shook his head slowly, looking confused. 

“Three weeks into third year, you started talking to a boy in Hufflepuff, Timothy Smith. And five minutes later, you two were best friends and you barely spoke to me anymore. Then I saw you do it again to him a few months later. Then in fourth year, there was a month or two when it was back to me again, before it was all change again. Eventually you didn’t even seem to bother with people, because they don’t hold your attention like Quidditch. You get bored and move on. And I don’t really want to be the one left behind again.”

Oliver seemed speechless. “I-” He began, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you?” Asked Percy, “How soon did you get bored of that boyfriend? Do you have proper friends that have lasted?”

Oliver opened his mouth to speak.

“Not just Quidditch team members,” Percy pointed out, a little maliciously, “Actual proper friends.”

The quiet in the room was suffocating. Percy looked away, he wondered what was going on outside, maybe he should have stayed out there...

“No,” Oliver said, so quietly it was barely audible. 

Percy had lost track, “What?” He asked automatically. 

“No, I don’t have friends,” Oliver said, scarily calm, “You’re completely right.”

Percy would almost rather that Oliver yelled at him about having no friends either, though that was for different reasons, almost the opposite. 

“I’m sorry, to start. In school, my mind was pretty much exclusively on Quidditch, and outside of that I got distracted a lot.” Oliver gripped his hair. “Oh, God, I don’t have any friends. What if I always get bored with everyone, Percy?”

Percy didn’t really want to hear this. He felt bad for paining Oliver, maybe he should have kept his mouth shut. He looked down at the counter tracing a crack in the wood running almost all the way through. It had been hit by some curse, and no matter what his mum had done, she’d never been able to heal it. He hoped that wasn’t some horrible metaphor. 

“But Percy,” Oliver said, emphatically, waiting for Percy to look up again before continuing. “I always remembered that second year as my favourite one at Hogwarts, when I was happiest. And I obviously didn’t realise what it was that made me happy.”

“That’s kind of you to say,” Percy said, eyes pricking despite his best efforts, “But you jump from obsessions outside of Quidditch.”

“What if you’re my Quidditch of people?” Oliver asked. 

“That’s the cringiest thing you’ve ever said,” Percy said, raising his eyebrows. 

“I know,” Oliver said, “But it might be true.”

“If it is then you can wait,” Percy said, knowing that then certainly a relationship would never occur, “We can keep being friends, and then…” He didn’t want to put an expiry date on that, “Well, we’ll see.”

“Okay,” Oliver said. “I respect that. But we’re friends forever so you’re not getting rid of me easily!” Enthusiasm re-entered his voice. 

Percy scoffed, “Friends forever, what are you twelve?” 

Oliver simply laughed.

BEEP BEEP

They both jumped, before realising it was just the timer. Percy rushed to the oven and flicked the timer off then opened it, and carefully levitated the tray of food out and tipped it onto a plate. As soon as he finished, he was aware of how close he was to Oliver now. 

Percy moved to pick up the plate, and as he did so Oliver leaned over him and picked a mozzarella stick off the plate, taking care not to actually touch Percy. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Oliver cast a cooling charm and pop it in his mouth. 

“Nice,” Oliver said, “Guess we’re professional chefs now.”

“Of course,” Percy drawled. “Now, stop nicking the food.”

“Yes, chef!” Oliver exclaimed with a smirk.


	10. I don't want to look at anything else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy's birthday party moves into the night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I have returned - I did my uni work but then JKR being a transphobe really put me off wanting to think about Harry Potter, but I'm ignoring that. One person said update so I have done that because honestly even one person reading is very kind, ty :)

Ginny’s favourite time of a party always used to be at the peak - where everyone was drunk but hadn’t crashed, everyone was chatting loudly and dancing, and there was noise and music and chaos. 

But this… the life of the party had passed and it was moving softly into death. Quiet conversations were taking place, some around the firepit, some had moved into the house, others had gone home.

Ginny was lying next to Luna on the grass, staring up at the stars which seemed to dance whenever she wasn’t quite looking. Luna’s hand was grasping her own and everything felt so utterly still for once. Peaceful.

Luna broke the silence. “Are you sleeping, Ginny?”

“No,” Ginny replied, never having felt so awake or alive. Astronomy lessons had never seemed too interesting before, but now the sky was laid bare and the stars were alive, and real, and magnificent. 

“Good,” Luna gave her hand a squeeze. “Do you think your brother had a good birthday?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny confessed, “I guess I hope so.”

“You guess?” Luna probed. Luna had a way of seeing through her so easily. 

“I don’t know. It seems that everyone else is best friends with Percy now. And I don’t know why I can’t be like that.”

“You don’t forgive him?” 

“I mean, I do… it’s just…”

“Just that you don’t?” Luna’s normal airy voice had become more serious. Ginny would have once been glad for that. For a long while, she’d thought Luna might not know how to be properly serious. Now she could be, but she’d only heard Luna be serious since her time being locked up. Luna being serious was always overshadowed by the fact it was a remnant from the war. It wasn’t really Luna. 

Ginny had got distracted, she refocused. “Maybe I don’t,” She said, “I mean, he abandoned us! What am I supposed to think? It’s as bad as me abandoning all of you!”

Luna made a light humming noise as she gently rubbed Ginny’s hand. “I can’t say for certain,” Luna began, “But it sounds to me like you haven’t forgiven yourself something. Though what you’re talking about I don’t know. When did you abandon us?”

Ginny sighed. She didn’t like remembering how she’d failed over the past year. “Well, you went missing at Christmas, and I just carried on with the DA. I should have done more.”

“You thought I was in Azkaban!”

“Then I should have gone to Azkaban and got you out! And then after Easter I didn’t return and just left Neville and the others to deal with everything when there were so many students they had to watch over.”

“But your family had to go into hiding!” Luna protested. 

“Then I should have taken that time to look for you,” Ginny said, “Instead I just sat twiddling my thumbs and listening to the radio.”

“Ginny, you did what you had to do to survive.”

“But what is survival if I’m not protecting you all?” 

“Look,” Luna said, wrapping an arm around Ginny, allowing her to rest her head on Luna’s shoulder. “If you’d come looking for me or if you’d returned to Hogwarts, you’d probably have died immediately. And then you wouldn’t have been there in the Battle and probably far more people would have died because there we had a fighting chance. It’s the same with Percy. Once he was stuck in the ministry, he couldn’t get out without putting an even bigger risk on your family. Instead he was in a good position to strike during the Battle.”

“I know all this logically,” Ginny said, “But why did he have to leave us? How did we make him hate us so much?”

“He doesn’t hate you.” Luna said, sharply, then stroked Ginny’s hair. “I think you should talk. Not tonight, but soon. And you have to forgive yourself Ginny. I think maybe you and Percy are just too similar - unable to let go of the past. But this is now.”

“Okay,” Ginny said, reluctantly, “I guess now is pretty wonderful.”

Much later, they’d get up, and the world would be real again. They’d be motion, and things, and other people. Noise and clutter and distractions. Right now, there was the grass, the stars, and Luna. A shooting star crossed the sky, but Ginny couldn’t think of anything more to wish for. 

* * *

“You’re really coming back?” Ron said, with such untempered glee that Hermione had to smile. 

“Yes,” She said, as he grabbed her hands in celebration. They sat on his bed, opposite each other, as it was only a single. “You’re happy?”

“Of course!” Ron said, “I can’t think of anything better.” He then paused. “But, are you happy? Is everything okay with your parents and stuff?”

“I hope so,” Hermione said, “I already spoke to Ginny and she sorted me out a bit.”

“That’s good,” Ron smiled, “But you’re always welcome to talk to me.”

“I know,” Hermione’s hair fell over her face a little as she looked down.

“Is something wrong?” Ron asked, “You seem… I don’t know, not very happy?”

“It’s stupid,” She said.

Ron frowned and sat up a little straighter. “If it’s worrying you then it’s not stupid.”

“Okay,” She looked over to the door to check no-one would wander in. It was shut. “It’s just since we’ve been together, we don’t spend every single day with each other.” She noticed Ron’s expression shift to one of sadness. 

“And you think you’ll get bored of me?” He asked, quietly.

“What?” Hermione said, “No. I’m worried you’ll get bored with me!”

Ron’s eyebrows shot up. “Hermione, you must be completely crazy.” He said, “How could I get bored with you, you’re basically the coolest person ever.”

She laughed a little in relief.

“Besides, we’ve spent the past seven years around each other all the time - why would we get bored now?”

“During those seven years, we were busy defeating Voldemort half the time.” Hermione pointed out, though she noticed the almost imperceptible flinch at the name. “What do we have now?”

“That was only at the end of every year!” Ron said, indignantly, “We had fun the rest of the year! And yelled at each other a lot.”

“Oh God, I hadn’t even thought of that!” Hermione exclaimed, “What if we argue all the time again?”

“Well, we might argue a little more,” Ron agreed, “But we’ll get through it. We always have. I’m less of a pillock now, I hope.”

“True,” Hermione smirked. “Well, we’ll see.”

“Hermione, I love you,” Ron reassured, “And I want to be with you forever. Maybe that isn’t how it’ll work out, but I can safely say I will never break up with you.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, I promise,” Ron said, firmly. “But no unbreakable vows, you know I don’t like those.”

“No unbreakable vows,” She laughed. “And I promise too.” She added quickly, before lunging in for a kiss.

“What was that?” He mumbled between kisses. “Are we stuck with each other forever?”

“Oh, shut up,” She said, “Pillock.”

She felt him smile against her lips. 

* * *

“Your room is nice,” Oliver said, peering out the window over Percy’s desk.

“Hmm,” Percy said in agreement, then followed it up with, “Wait, why are you in my room?”

“You invited me here to say hello to your owl, remember?” Oliver glanced over at Percy, who was sitting on his bed and swaying a little, “And to apologise for my owl taking his snacks.”

“Ohh, yeah,” Percy said, face flushed from the alcohol. Personally, Oliver thought it had been a pretty poor excuse to keep Oliver around a bit longer when he’d said he was leaving, but he didn’t mind.

“Hello,” Oliver spoke to the owl which was settled nicely in an open cage. “It’s nice to meet you, Hermes. I’m very sorry about your treats.”

Percy giggled. “You’re very silly.”

“Sorry, I’m trying to have a serious conversation here, Percy!” 

“I see that, I see that,” Percy stood, and took a couple of steps to the cage. “You don’t want this idiot talking to you, do you Hermes?”

“He does!” Oliver protested, turning to look at Percy. They were close and eye to eye. Somehow, Percy never seemed like he should be as tall as Oliver, perhaps because he wasn’t broad, but Oliver couldn’t tell which of them was taller.

“Sure sure,” Percy mumbled. Slurred speech wasn’t a good sign, Oliver thought. Percy did seem to be rocking. “I just think you are avoiding talking to me.” 

Percy poked Oliver in the chest, presumably to highlight the ‘you’ but he did it too late. The forward motion caused him to fall straight on Oliver. Oliver grabbed him in reflex. 

“Oops,” Percy said.

“I think you might be a little drunk,” Oliver said, sarcastically.

“Yes,” Percy responded, as Oliver propped him back up, “Which is why I can do this.”

With more mobility than Oliver would have thought, Percy tugged Oliver’s face against his own. It was messy, though not as gross as Oliver often found kissing, and Percy pressing against him was warm and comforting. Surprise ruled his mind for a moment before he came back to his senses and quickly shoved the other man away, gripping his shoulders so he didn’t fall.

“No,” Oliver said, maybe more harshly than he meant to, “We’re not doing this.”

“But why not?” Percy whined, squinting at him, “You like me, I like you, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is that you’re drunk and not four hours ago you rejected me.” Oliver tried to guide Percy to the bed. “You don’t want this.”

“I think I do,” Percy mumbled.

“Now, get into bed,” Oliver said, calmly, aware that Percy was completely out of it and arguing wasn’t going to help anything.

“But I’m not in my pyjamas!” Percy exclaimed, pulling up his pillow to reveal a pair of neatly folded pyjamas. 

Oliver rolled his eyes. Here we go. It would be kind of cute if he wasn’t genuinely concerned about invading Percy’s privacy. “Okay, well I’ll turn around and you put them on.” He acquiesced turning and hoping for no disaster.

Three seconds later, there was the sound of several things falling over. Oliver quickly turned to see Percy stuck with his jumper over his head.

“Oh Merlin, come here,” Oliver pulled him away from anything that looked knockable and helped pull off the jumper then unbuttoned Percy’s shirt and replaced it with the pyjama one, which he could only be bothered to do two buttons of. He let Percy undo his trousers while he steadied him and helped him step out, quickly stopped him as Percy attempted to remove his underwear, and then helped him step into the pyjama bottoms. 

“Okay, into bed,” Oliver persuaded after teeth cleaning had also taken place. Percy lay down in the bed and moved across to the wall side.

“Lie down,” Percy demanded, patting the other side of the bed. 

“No, Percy, we’ve been over this.”

“Not for those reasons,” Percy said, wrinkling his nose. He evidently was slightly less drunk now. “I just want to be able to fall asleep.”

Oliver got in. 

“So,” Oliver asked, wordlessly turning the light out, “Good birthday?”

“Yeah,” Percy replied, sleepily, “Twas nice to have other people and not be sad.”

Oliver’s heart panged. He didn’t like to think of that. Anyone being alone on their birthday was sad enough, but to think of Percy… It didn’t bear thinking about. 

There was another silence, where Oliver thought Percy might be asleep.

“Oliver.” Percy’s voice sounded clearer, “Tell me why you like me.”

Oliver lay on his back staring at the night sky that Percy must have charmed on his ceiling. Why he liked Percy… it was hard to say in words. “Well, you’re clever,” He began, “And funny. And you know things about Quidditch. You understand the things I’ve been through and don’t treat them like they’re unimportant. You care fiercely about your family even if they don’t realise it. You’re brave, even though you don’t think you are. Whenever you’re embarrassed your ears go red. Even when we’re not talking it doesn’t feel like awkward silence. You’re a good listener-”

A snore broke Oliver’s speech. He laughed silently. Everything he’d said was true, but he didn’t think his feelings were that strong until just now. The attraction was there, obviously, but somehow he wanted this every day. Every night to lie next to this awkward man who wore too many jumpers and avoided all physical activity where possible.

He should leave now. He wouldn’t embarrass Percy by still being there in the morning, especially when his family would see. Nor would he want to go downstairs after staying up here too long or that would seem weird. But he took five more minutes, just to lie there staring up at the charmed ceiling of stars, with gentle, regular snores beside him.

* * *

Percy woke up with an absolutely parched throat and a tongue of sandpaper. He attempted to sit up a little but immediately felt the cake and alcohol from yesterday want to jump back out of his body. If he stayed very still and focused, he wouldn’t be sick.

There was a knock on the door. That must have been what had woken him up. He mumbled something which must have been vaguely construed as “Come in”, for the door opened spilling some light into the room and his sister poked her head around the door. 

“Hi,” She said, quietly, in response to his slight turn of head towards her. “I thought you might need this.” She produced a vial and a bottle of water, the latter of which she set down on the chest of drawers. She unscrewed the cap and offered it to him. “There’s only one dose left so drink up.”

Percy did so and instantly felt the sickness fade a bit, though the taste was grim. He grabbed the bottle of water and drank from it. Now he felt vaguely human. “Thank you,” He said to Ginny, voice scratchy, “How did you know?”

“Oh, I saw Oliver Wood on his way out last night. He mentioned you were very far gone.” 

Percy sat up in shock remembering the night before. He couldn’t remember much from the time between getting the cake and kissing Oliver, but he very much remembered he had kissed Oliver.

“You okay?” Ginny asked, eyebrows knitted together. 

“Yeah,” Percy said, “I just need the loo.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” She said, turning to leave.

“Thanks for the Hangover Cure,” Percy said, as he followed her out of the room, “You probably saved my life.”

“Don’t mention it,” She said, patting him on the shoulder gently, before heading downstairs.

When Percy returned to his room he noticed a parcel wrapped up on his desk. His family had said they would do birthday presents this evening after he was back from work - which reminded him, he had to be at work by 11:30. It was only 10:00 now though. Who was this from then?

A note lay next to it: _Hope you were okay last night. I forgot to give this to you last night, and then you were a bit too drunk. Happy Birthday._

He unwrapped the box and opened it. It was a diary, deep red, with a clasp. A note lay on top. 

_I wanted to get you a book but I didn’t know what books you had. I thought this seemed nice though and you seem like the sort of person who’d like to write things. I don’t know if this is a rubbish gift, I’m not very good at presents. I thought it looked nice anyway. Happy Birthday._

Percy smiled. He hadn’t kept a diary in a long time, partly because he was afraid of what might come out when he started writing. But it could be therapeutic. Besides, it was a nice book, he thought, running a hand over the front cover and playing with the clasp. 

Had he made a mistake the day before? Well, he’d certainly made one mistake, remembering pressing his lips against Oliver’s. He didn’t know what had compelled him to do so and was glad Oliver hadn’t taken that any further. It was amazing what alcohol could compel one to do. 

Percy knew he liked the man he’d seen so far, but it was far too soon to get things intertwined. Oliver wasn’t just some person he could date for a few weeks or even months and then never see again. He’d known Oliver for years, his brothers knew Oliver, it would just be strange. 

Besides, he knew it wouldn’t have lasted, if they’d begun anything yesterday. He’d gone in on Oliver for being flakey, but Percy was almost the opposite. He was needy. He jumped to conclusions about people not caring about him. He’d need more from Oliver than Oliver could provide, and that wasn’t fair. Not when Percy would disappear for days or more unable to move from bed. Percy knew he was not fun to be around half the time. 

It was for the best.


	11. middle of the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diagon Alley is dangerous at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've uploaded 2 chapters at once. I wrote this a couple of months ago and even then I didn't really know why this turn happened but I guess I don't mind it. Also, I don't hate cockneys in particular though of course, I do hate Londoners (kidding... i think) so apologies for giving them a bad name.

Percy was woken up to thumping for the second time this week. He hadn’t anticipated moving in with his brother would mean having to hear his brother having sex. 

He sat up and grabbed his wand, casting a quick silencing spell, which George had obviously forgotten again. He wanted to go straight back to sleep, but what if something terrible happened overnight and he didn’t hear?

He cast lumos to look at the clock on the small bedside table. 12:30. Not that late, he supposed. He flicked on the lamp which made the room seem more unfamiliar than ever. When it was dark, he could be anywhere. With the light on, he clearly wasn’t home. 

Better than his old London flat though. He hadn’t taken many belongings, so even after a couple of years it had still looked clinical. Despite only having spent the past few days here, there were various trinkets from his old room: his small golden globe, a candle that had sat in his room for about ten years but never been lit, and a small mirror for when he tried contact lenses instead of his glasses. For some reason, in anticipation of him moving in, George had put up a poster of the Weird Sisters and another of Celestina Warbeck, likely because he knew Percy was not a fan. 

How long would he have to wait, he wondered. Then gagged a little because he didn’t want to truly think about how long his brother would last.

It was no puzzle to Percy who George was with. Angelina Johnson had been there almost every evening, arriving quite late when Percy was going to bed. Often they stayed in the living room a long while, talking quietly. Sometimes Percy could hear them crying. He felt more invasive hearing that than sex. 

His eyes began to droop. He cursed the clock for only moving two minutes. Realising he couldn’t stay awake in bed, he shoved away the covers and stood up, wandering over to the window. He tended to keep the outside noise quieted to avoid every loud conversation on Diagon Alley waking him, but there was always a little sound coming in, in case there was some kind of fight or attack. Percy wondered if he was sometimes too paranoid. 

It was silent now, thanks to the silencing charm, but he peered through the glass anyway. The street looked deserted, but then it was a Thursday night, and there was often little reason for people to walk this direction though there was access to some housing north of Diagon Alley, and a public floo for people who were drinking as one should never drink and apparate lest they wanted to splinch themselves halfway to heaven. 

The street was nice like this. Looking down on the cobbled street lit only by moonlight, all the shops closed and dark, Percy wondered how often Fred had stood, just watching. He comforted himself in thinking it would not have been often. Fred didn’t need to sit around watching other people, he was always doing things, always thinking, and experimenting. Percy had been too harsh on him sometimes.

He’d been forgiven though. Fred, quickest to anger, was always quickest to forgive. Percy knew that he himself was far worse about holding grudges. He’d been bitter about Fred and George changing his Head Boy badge for months, at least now that would only make him laugh. He really wished that could happen now. 

A shadowy figure distracted him from his thoughts. They were moving quickly. Percy wouldn’t have found it strange, but they hadn’t even cast lumos. Almost as though they didn’t want to be seen. Moments later, several lit up wands caught up, as the figure stumbled and almost fell. 

Percy couldn’t hear anything, but he could sense the person was in trouble as they turned quickly with their wand in a defensive stance. Then the first spell was shot.

In his mind, Percy didn’t want to do anything, but his body already crossed the room, snatched up his wand while shoving his feet in some shoes, and apparating down to the street in his pyjamas. He was accurate, apparating to a few feet behind the person he’d seen running to give himself a moment to get over the nausea.

He stepped up just in time to cast a shield charm for what looked like expelliarmus. The positive was, it didn’t seem they were aiming to hurt. The negative was whatever the plan was once the other person was disarmed. The person whose defence he’d so kindly come to appeared to have a hood up on his robes obscuring his face.

“Oi, who are you?” One of them shouted, a man with a strong cockney accent. Percy did think he must look a sight in his striped pyjamas. 

“Who are you?” Percy retorted, “I don’t think you should be harassing people in the street.” From the corner of Percy’s eye, he noticed the hood slip and silver-blonde hair shone in the moonlight. He ignored that.

“Some people deserve harassment,” The same man - Cockney, Percy labelled him - shouted while throwing another spell. His friends followed suit, though seemed a little reluctant. Percy didn’t recognise him, he could see a few frown lines now he was closer. His parents' age, he reckoned. 

“That’s ridiculous,” Percy said, cutting through the spells with shield charms as the blonde in the hood did the same.

“You’re one of them Weasleys’ ain’t ya?” Cockney said. “Don’t you think there ought to be some justice?”

“I don’t think this is justice,” Percy said, “Attacking someone three on one in the middle of the night.”

“Well, then,” Cockney scowled, “Guess you’re also our enemy.”

A barrage of spells came at them, red, blue, orange - thankfully no green. Percy was already getting tired with deflection, shield charms were not his forte. He cast a stunning spell instead, realising that nothing good would come of just defence. It was unfortunate his partner chose the same time to do that and an orange spell knocked the blonde boy down. 

The blonde boy didn't seem to be moving, but Percy didn't think he was dead or anything so dramatic. He thought he could discern a rise and fall of the chest but it was hard to tell.

“Give up, now.” Cockney stepped closer to Percy seeming a lot bigger now. “We’ll just rough him up a bit, nothing too…” He licked his lips, “Long-Lasting.”

Could he pretend to give in? Maybe he’d have enough time to call for Aurors. But what if the men apparated away with the blonde man while he called them? He could try to cast a Patronus, while they were at this brief impasse; he wouldn’t have time to properly give it a message, but perhaps if he focused his thoughts correctly it would take one. 

Percy lowered his wand, head drooped as if in defeat. “Okay…” He said as he focused his mind on all his happiest memories - the Patronus charm had never been his best spell. His family… no, that included Fred which confused the happiness. Laughing on the floor of the shop with George, his birthday with everyone there, and a certain smile and pair of brown eyes…

“Expecto Patronum!” He shouted, a silvery figure burst from his wand and he willed it to go. It was all done in moments. 

He’d lost the edge though, immediately a spell was fired, though it seemed to be aimed his Patronus which had flown off behind him. 

“You can’t hit a Patronus, idiot!” Cockney scolded the greasy-haired man beside him. 

“Can’t you?” The man on the other side of Cockney asked, lowering his wand a moment, “But then how-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Percy fired stupefy at the guy on the left. He almost felt a little bad as the man collapsed. He’d been quiet and looked like he wanted to flee. He also hadn’t been paying attention. 

Cockney jumped a little but quickly reacted by throwing a curse at Percy. Percy had expected that, and dodged right, just behind where Blonde lay, then threw up a shield charm to counter the curse that was sure to come from Greasy. 

There were advantages to duelling in a pair of course, but there were also problems if you weren’t well-versed in each other’s movements. Percy felt freer now, dipping and diving, without worrying about where someone else was. The other two were practiced though, and Percy was working defensively. It wouldn’t hold up forever. 

Another spell hit Blondie on the floor. Damn it. 

Percy took a punt, and ran around the other side of the two men, narrowly avoiding getting hit straight in the chest with red light. Now they faced away from the boy at least. 

Left, down, shield, right, shield, behind the bins, shit the bin exploded, right, shield, dodge, sweep, stupefy. 

It was automatic, like playing a game. Keep your focus, breathe, and never turn your back. Those were the first things Percy had learnt about duelling. 

Sweat trickled down the side of his face, but he felt like he was flying. Cockney was scowling as he tried to get a hit. The third man started to stir again. Percy was surprised the stun had even lasted that long. It must all be over.

Then Cockney went down. Both Percy and Greasy stared in surprise as he keeled over despite no spell they could see hitting him. In the confusion, Percy stupefied Greasy with ease. The third man had just stood up. He put his hands up in defeat; Percy lowered his wand. 

Then the man bolted. Percy didn’t know where he expected to go, and simply stupefied him too. It was a lot easier without all those spells going on. 

“Percy Weasley, what on earth is going on?” A figure was walking towards him. Percy didn’t need to see his face to know it was Oliver. 

Percy’s muscles ached all over and he could sleep a thousand years, he was thoroughly drained. Oliver was half a foot from him, and he collapsed into his arms. 

* * *

“Is he alright?” A strong accent asked.

“I think he’s just coming round, yeah.” A familiar voice very close to his ear responded.

Percy forced his eyes open. He was still in the street, but appeared to be on the ground, propped up against something. The shop building, he realised. It was a lot brighter, surely it wasn’t morning? 

No, he realised as he blinked, there were just some conjured lights around. “What happened?” He croaked. 

“We were hoping that you could explain that,” The accent said again. Northern, Yorkshire maybe.

He looked up to see a middle-aged woman in an Auror uniform, smiling down at him. He vaguely recognised her, but couldn’t think of her name. 

“I’m Auror Harries,” She said, “As it’s the middle of the night, I’m one of the first responders along with Auror Robins over there.” She pointed to another woman who was peering down at the people who lay on the ground. They all seemed to be tied up now, though she was undoing the incarcerous and using a simple handcuff. Oliver must have tied them then. 

“Hi,” Percy said, “I can explain this.”

“I’m sure you can,” She said, “We only just arrived as you collapsed and you’ve only been out for about a minute, but your friend has already made an impassioned plea.”

She nodded to Oliver, who was sat beside Percy, leaning against him. Wait, no, Percy was leaning against Oliver, he realised. 

“Those three,” Percy said, brokenly, “Just attacked out of nowhere.”

“Three?” She asked, “There are four people.” 

“Oh they weren’t attacking me,” Percy was thinking clearly now, “They were attacking that blonde man.”

“Malfoy?” Oliver said, unable to hide his astonishment. 

“Yeah,” Percy sighed. He’d been sure he knew who it was from the first glance of hair, but he’d hoped maybe there would be another blonde man who looked a bit like Malfoy from the side. 

“Okay, well we’ll release him and take the others in for the night. You’ll be asked for questioning tomorrow.” She said. “If you could just fill in this form for us, and you too, Mr. Wood was it?”

“Thanks,” Oliver said, standing to take the clipboard. Percy hauled himself up too and they filled in the details and were given notices of incident. Auror Harries went to talk to Auror Robins for a few minutes before returning to collect their forms.

“Okay, we’ve healed Mr. Malfoy, and he refused the need for the hospital,” Auror Harries said, taking the sheets from them. “We have told him to go to St. Mungos if he has any further issues. If you two could keep an eye on him for the next half an hour or so, just to double-check.” 

They both nodded in automatic response and then she, her partner, and the three men were portkeyed away. 

Draco Malfoy stood, looking a little haggard, and frowning at them. When he saw Percy and Oliver looking, his sneer returned. “Suppose you have regrets about running and being a hero now, Weasley.”

Percy merely shrugged, “Not really. Would you like a cup of tea?”

Maybe the Auror had made an impression on Malfoy, or maybe he didn’t want to go wandering in the dark again, but he begrudgingly accepted the offer.

* * *

Percy, Oliver, and Draco Malfoy were all sitting around the coffee table in the living room. 

Malfoy sipped from the cup silently as Percy and Oliver made awkward small talk despite being knackered. 

“Well, I think I’d better go,” Oliver said, after a few minutes. “I have a match tomorrow morning - it’s not a league one, but it’s a pre-season friendly…”

“You have a match tomorrow!” Percy exclaimed, “Go home immediately! You need to sleep!”

“In fairness, I was sleeping.” Oliver yawned, “But then I got woken up by the Patronus and-”

“Yes, yes,” Percy said, hastily, “And I’m very grateful.”

“Good,” Oliver went to the fireplace and grabbed a bit of floo powder. 

“Seriously, Oliver,” Percy said, with a lot more sincerity, “Thank you.”

Oliver smiled over his shoulder as he threw the powder in. 

“Thank you.” Another voice said as Oliver stepped into the flames. 

No-one could have said that but Malfoy and yet Percy was still surprised to see his lips move. 

Oliver simply nodded, and then said the name of his house. He was gone. 

Now it was just him and Malfoy. 

Despite not speaking at all during the fight, Percy couldn’t help feeling a slight comradery with Malfoy, even now. Seeing him running in the street and pitted against three men who he didn’t appear to have done anything to, made Percy almost feel sorry for him.

“Aren’t you going to say anything, Weasley?” Malfoy drawled. 

Then again maybe not. Percy reminded himself that he was the adult (on a technical level Malfoy was eighteen, but eighteen didn’t really count). “How are you feeling?” That was Percy’s automatic response.

“Fine.” Malfoy responded, “You? I saw you’d fainted.” His voice was laced with a chuckle, but Percy didn’t take it very seriously. 

“I did.” Percy stated, “After you got knocked out about a minute in and I had to hold all three off to protect you.”

“Bet you regret that now.” The regular snark was present in Malfoy’s voice, but that was the second time Malfoy had implied such and Percy didn’t like the thought that Malfoy believed if he’d known who he was he’d have left him to get beaten up. Or worse. 

Besides, it simply wasn’t true. From his window, he hadn’t known who it was, but he had been almost certain after that hood slip. “No.” Percy reiterated, simply. “Three against one is never fair. What happened?”

Malfoy didn’t look like he was going to respond but maybe the silence got too long. “I was out with my friends.” He said, tightly, “They weren’t ready to go home yet, but the floo in the bar was disconnected for maintenance. Too drunk to apparate so I was heading to the public floo. I think they’d seen us earlier.”

“I haven’t seen you out and about all summer,” Percy remarked.

“I’ve been disguising myself.” Malfoy pulled his legs up underneath him in a relaxed posture Percy had never seen. Maybe he was still a little tipsy. “Tonight I thought I’d test the waters. Turns out it was a bad idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Percy said, though a small part of him, a part he didn’t like, took some glee in the Malfoys being completely ruined. 

“Of course,” Malfoy was back to sneering, “You are the traitor Weasley after all.”

The comment didn’t even sting, Percy guessed he just cared that little for Malfoy’s opinion. If anything, it made him feel a bit better. If Malfoy used something against you it probably wasn’t a valid thing. “Yes I am,” Percy said, cheerfully, “Probably even more so after helping you.”

Malfoy ignored him. “So, what happened on your end? And why did that Wood guy come charging in?”

“It’s quite boring,” Percy admitted, “I just saw you outside and thought three on one was unfair.”

“You didn’t think to call the Aurors?”

To be honest, the thought hadn’t even crossed Percy’s mind. “A moment later and they might have apparated you off somewhere! I didn’t have time for all that.”

Malfoy nodded, accepting that. 

“Then you got yourself knocked out, but I knocked out one of them. Then I sent my Patronus as quickly as I could.”

“And it went to Wood?” Malfoy laughed, sharply, “What is he, your boyfriend?” 

Percy forced down a blush, “Don’t be stupid.”

“He did come running though,” Malfoy mumbled, or at least that’s what Percy thought he said. 

“So eventually he showed up having called the Aurors,” Percy concluded, “And I passed out from magical exhaustion.”

“Not been training,” Malfoy sniffed.

“You were knocked out within two minutes, I don’t think you can talk. I was there at least seven more.”

“What took Wood so long anyway?”

“Patronus takes a bit of time to travel and it didn’t have a proper message attached so he struggled to understand it. Then contacting the Aurors was a lot more difficult than he expected, they need to upgrade their emergency line.”

“Ministry’s a mess,” Malfoy stated. 

Percy shrugged, “When isn’t it?”

Malfoy suddenly straightened up as if aware he’d been partaking in small-talk. “Well, it’s been a delight Weasley, but it’s been half an hour so I really must be off.” If he’d coated his voice with any more sarcasm he might have been sick.

Malfoy stood and Percy did too. “Okay,” Percy said, “Have a safe trip back. Was nice saving you.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and stalked to the fireplace. In a moment, he was gone. 

It was strange. Percy couldn’t deny that the whole thing had been awkward and that largely Draco Malfoy was not a very nice person. Underneath, though, Percy didn’t think he was half bad. 


End file.
